Draco Malfoy and the Goblet of Fire
by HiBob
Summary: The Tri-wizard Tournament. Honour. Eternal Glory. And Money.
1. Introduction

A/N: The hardest thing to do in this story was write the first chapter. Which is surprising, because I've written a dozen different versions. To be honest, I don't like any of them. I think the problem is that this is the book where the storyline begins to skew. I made the assumption in this story that Dumbledore would hold the Tri-Wizard Tournament because it isn't about the Boy-Who-Lived, regardless of whom that boy is. The tournament is about securing allies. Meeting, building ties between the schools, hoping they hold once the dark lord resurfaces. After this book, the story can become anything. This is the last book where the groundwork for the next war is being laid. The rest of the story is about each side maneuvering before the final battle. This is the first chapter of a story that seems to parallel the original in its framework yet it is a story that departs more and more from the original tale it was based on. And so, I try to change things while keeping them the same.

And so I present the first chapter. Before I post this however, I will make a few changes. Again.

**Prelude: A Bedtime Story**

He had heard a noise. Noise was common in a house full of children. As a father, he had learned to filter out most of them as not needing anything done. It was the unusual noises, the unexpected ones, that always caught his attention. And he had heard the noise. Low but penetrating. Barely audible but with a sharpness that made it noticeable. It was a noise he had heard before, three or four times. It meant that his eldest son was having one of his seizures.

These weren't violent seizures, as an epileptic might have. They were discomfortingly mild. The boy would stare at nothing in particular. He would mumble random words. The last time, they almost seemed to make sense. But . . . There's that word. That word is always there. But . . . that had been almost a year ago. That time, the boy had said something that sounded like water. Every other noise he made during that (fortunately short) seizure had sounded garbled, as though he was trying to cough with something in his mouth. The father was not worried. Then.

Two weeks later, they were at the beach. The boy was hit by a sudden wave. He went under the water. The father, who found himself watching, noticed the boy did not come up. He shouted for help as he ran across the sand. Swimmers in the area started searching at once. Less than a minute after he went under, the boy was on the sand coughing up water. The father remembered the sounds from the bedroom a fortnight earlier.

Tonight he heard the noise again. He ran up the stairs to the first bedroom, opening the door but not turning on the light. He did that the very first time and the boy screamed. He did that the second time and learned not to do it again.

The father looked at his son. The boy was sitting up in bed, staring straight ahead. It was as though he were waiting for someone to come. This time there were no noises or rambling words. It was a poem. A limerick. The boy liked limericks.

_"He came to the bow bells / and that's how his tongue tells / He must command/ I give my hand / that's where our future dwells."_

The boy smiled and lay back down. A moment later, he was asleep again. The father was frowning. It was the same kind of seizure except his son was coherent, almost normal. But . . . There we are again. That same word. It tells us always that things are not as simple as they seem. Yes, the boy recited a poem, a limerick in fact, while sitting up in bed and while being sound asleep. That is strange enough. But. And the reason for this 'but' is that the boy spoke in a foreign accent and spoke as though it was completely natural.

The father was no fool. And the poem was easy enough to remember. He returned downstairs and went to his study. As he powered up his computer, his wife walked in. He repeated the poem for her. He went online and typed in the words "bow bells" into the search engine. His wife agreed that it seemed like a good place to start. He pressed enter.

The first site that came up was one of English nursery rhymes. He clicked onto the link and came face to face with a poem called Oranges and Lemons.

_"Oranges and Lemons" say the Bells of St. Clements / "You owe me five farthings" say the bells of St. Martins / "When will you pay me?" say the bells of Old Bailey / "When I grow rich" say the bells of Shoreditch / "When will that be?" say the bells of Stepney / "I do not know" say the Great Bells of Bow._

It was the wife who read the closing lines. "Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head. Chip chop chip chop the last man's dead."

That was enough to scare them. To have your child spout apparent nonsense is normal. To find out it has meaning is another. They backed out of the site and returned to the list. One item said "born within the sounds of bow bells." It was a site about British phrases and their origins.

"He came to London," the wife said in understanding.

They looked at each other. Their son had made an obscure reference to the city of London (at least it was an obscure reference in Boston) in his sleep.

"Makes sense now," the husband replied. When she asked, he explained. The boy had spoken in a perfect English accent.

There was no more to do. It was a mystery that led nowhere, although it did imply one thing. Kidnaping. Their son would be kidnaped by an Englishman. At least that was the initial fear.

Then came the phone call. It was late at night, late enough for children to be in bed but not yet for adults. The father picked up the phone. It was the Dean from the university where he taught. The board decided they liked the idea: An American professor goes to England and teaches American history from his point of view. An English professor goes to America and does the same. The board also wanted stability, a family man who wouldn't embarrass them. The father would be asked tomorrow if he wanted to spend a year abroad.

The father laughed after he closed the phone. He knew what the poem meant. He would be the man taking his son, and he would take him to London.

**Chapter One: In The Beginning**

To: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

From: Bartemius Crouch, Minister for Magic

Re: The rehabilitation of the Death Eater offspring, Draco Malfoy

Headmaster,

While I do have the highest respect for your abilities, I must conclude that your suggested efforts that Draco Malfoy be treated in a gentle fashion have come to nought. Instead of the boy becoming more compliant with his situation, the reverse has been the case. One student has died as a result of interacting with this boy. This incident occurred in such a way as to confuse everyone as to exactly what happened. Despite your assurances, I cannot dismiss out of hand the strong possibility that such an action was planned with these exact results in mind. Nor can I accept the boy's simple and convenient statement that he recalls nothing.

I will admit that the Nott family is under suspicion, particularly since the father disappeared shortly before he was to be questioned about certain illegal artifacts, but that in itself does not give credence to the Malfoy boy's statement. It is obvious that a firmer hand should be applied.

I have already informed his legal guardian, Sirius Black, that the boy's planned visit with a wizarding family is to be cancelled. The Malfoy boy is to have limited and, if possible, no contact with magic or any persons of magic during the period of his summer holiday. Sirius Black has also been directed that the boy be engaged in some form of employment in order to occupy his time and to promote a respect for those who need to work for their living. This employment is to be with muggles. The preference is that these muggles should not have had any prior contact with the boy, or minimal contact. He is not to be employed by anyone he is familiar with.

For the upcoming school year, all privileges are to be suspended. He is not to be permitted any extracurricular activities. This includes not only Hogsmeade weekends and attendance at the various tasks of the Tri-Wizard Tournament but to the special tutoring classes he has with at least two of the teachers. Also, he is to be restrained in his habits of visiting various teachers and other staff. These are distractions that he does not need. Finally, all teachers and staff are to watch and observe the boy at all times. They are also to correct him immediately should they see him behaving in an improper manner. If there is any doubt, it would be best if the boy is assumed to be guilty. A few unwarranted detentions will only reinforce the knowledge that he will not be permitted to get away with anything.

It will be interesting to see how the boy reacts to these measures. I am sure the results of using a firm hand will vindicate me.

* * *

To: Bartemius Crouch, Minister for Magic

From: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Re: The rehabilitation of the student, Draco Malfoy

Minister.

I understand your position and I do know what you are trying to do for the boy. Please be assured that Draco Malfoy will be kept under observation as much as is humanly possible as long as it is not to the deterrence of the other students. This has always been the case with Draco since his arrival because of the unique circumstances of his personal history.

I cannot acquiesce to your request that Draco be restrained from extra curricular activities specifically because this would single him out from the other students without good reason. If his attitude is such that I can warrant such an action as appropriate, I will do so. If he maintains good behavior, however, I will be forced to let him attend any and all activities.

As for the subject of visits with staff, I would ask you to reconsider this point. The two staff members he visits with most often are the Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, and our Potions professor, Severus Snape. I do not need to remind you of the help that Professor Snape gave us in the last war. His chief concern is to guide Draco along the proper path. Also, he has made it a point to keep me informed of what occurs at each meeting. This is helpful, as Draco does consider "Uncle Severus" to be a confidant. I also am informed by Rubeus Hagrid of what is discussed at what has become a weekly affair of meeting Friday afternoons for tea. In case you are interested to know, most of these conversations revolve around Quidditch and homework. Rubeus Hagrid has also been known to convince Draco to help with certain projects because of their friendship. Had you not insisted on muggle employment, I would have suggested hiring Draco as his assistant.

You should also know that Draco's visits are rarely private affairs. He has visited with as many as five other students accompanying him. But Draco is the impetus. Thus, I am also asking you to reconsider this point not for Draco's sake but for the other students who have become involved in these affairs.

If I can be of any service to you in any other way, please do not hesitate to ask.

* * *

To: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

From: Bartemius Crouch, Minister for Magic

Re: The restriction of privileges

Headmaster,

I admire your careful wording concerning extra curricular activities and I admit you are correct. I am also confident that the boy in question will give you sufficient cause to forbid him anything up to and including attendance at Hogwarts.

I am hesitant to agree to your request concerning visits with the staff, but I will do so with the understanding that I will receive detailed reports about all meetings and what was discussed. If any staff member declines to make such a report then it would be best if that person had no contact with the boy outside the regular course of his duties.

I will be curious to learn what is said if the boy continues to meet with his godfather.


	2. A Birthday Party

Chapter Two: A Birthday Party

Draco sat in the storage room of the Anglian Pub, strumming the guitar. He would be the first to admit he wasn't very good. He was also willing to admit that he was better then he ever expected after only one month. The hard part was neither learning the notes nor memorizing a song. The hard part was building up the callouses on his fingers so they wouldn't hurt him every time he pressed them against the strings. He had finally reached the point where the pain was only an irritation. And to prove the point, he was playing the first song he ever tried to learn. His audience was in love with him.

"Again," Cheryl cried in delight at her uncle.

Draco began to play the song again. For the fifteenth time in a row. He strummed the first stanza, which was the only stanza. When he began to repeat it, he sang the words.

"_Twinkle, twinkle, little star / How I wonder what you are / Up above the world so high / like a teardrop in the sky._"

Cheryl applauded. Then she shouted, "Again."

"Not again," Janice said from the doorway.

The little girl was willing to forgo more choruses of her favorite song in exchange for a hug from her mother. As Janice picked up her daughter, she gave Draco a grateful smile for minding Cheryl while she ran some errands. Draco smiled back. He was sad to lose his audience but he was happy to have the chance to play something else. There were two songs that he wanted to learn, and he would finally have a chance to practice them before his birthday party began.

Mac looked in on him shortly after the concert ended. Mostly to let him know that there weren't any problems. Draco's employment also required him to help serve the food if they were ever busy. He also served the food if strangers were in the pub, just in case they were wizards checking up on the boy. The truth was this: Mac didn't need Draco's help but Draco had to work for the summer holiday. His employment was a ruse. Draco practiced the guitar so that he had something to do.

All of his plans had gone for naught. His two week stay was being cancelled while Draco was on the train. He ended up only spending the night at the Weasley's home, the Burrow. At least Arthur Weasley had talked Sirius Black into letting him take Draco home, using the excuse that he was curious to see Alastor Moody's old house now that muggles lived there.

Draco smiled as he remembered the Ford Anglia that Arthur Weasley owned. It had an invisibility spell on it so that no one would see the car when it was flying. It was a wonderful end to a very short visit. It was also a chance to inform Mister Weasley of a conversation he had overheard near the end of the school year. His godfather, Rodolphus Lestrange, had met in the forbidden forest with his brother, Rabastan. Draco was hidden nearby so that he could listen in, so that he could inform Arthur Weasley of the contents of the conversation. (There was an agreement between Rodolphus and Arthur that Draco would be the messenger between them, to relay information. It was also agreed that no one would know this.) Voldemort was planning his return. And it was to coincide with the conclusion of the planned Tri-Wizard Tournament to be held at Hogwarts school during the upcoming school year.

And today was his birthday.

By order of the Minister for Magic, Draco was not permitted contact with the world of magic. He couldn't invite his friends. And he could only communicate with them by muggle means. As a result, he had very little contact with anyone from school. On the other hand, he had a family to celebrate his birthday with. It would be a wonderful day.

As he was putting the guitar away, Draco noticed Mac standing in the doorway. He was holding a dirty apron which he tossed to the boy with the admonition to put it on. Mac also asked Draco to look sweaty. There was a man sitting at the bar who looked like a wizard. Draco smirked in response. It was just like the Ministry to send someone around to make sure he was working on his birthday.

Draco walked into the kitchen and grabbed a plate, walking over to the heat tray, he put two pieces of fish and a large helping of chips on the plate. (That was the only hot food on the menu. Mac liked to keep things simple.) As he walked to the door to the pub proper, plate in one hand, he rubbed his hair so it looked messy, as though he'd been working all morning. He stepped out, behind the bar, and looked for the customer. He then nearly dropped the plate.

"Uncle Rodolphus?"

The handful of customers looked over, laughing politely when Rodolphus wished his godson a happy birthday.

Mac gave Draco a relieved smile and told him he was free for the rest of the day. He also mentioned that there was a small party going on in the corner. Draco sat the plate in front of his godfather, who gave it a dubious look.

"It's good. Had some, meself," Draco assured him.

Rodolphus Lestrange nodded, motioning Mac to refill his pint glass. He was taking his first sip when Draco returned from the kitchen without the apron.

Despite a hundred questions he wanted to ask, Draco explained the small party in the corner was because if his birthday. He pointed to where Mick and Janice were trying to entertain a two year old girl. His godfather gave a polite smile and said he would wait until his birthday present arrived. He leaned forward and whispered that it was something the Minister was sure to hate. Draco hinted that someone from the Ministry might show up, and Rodolphus smiled. He knew someone would be by. That was why he planned this. He looked at his watch and suggested Draco join his friends. He would join them for a bit once he finished eating.

And now Draco had to think. His godfather was an odd man. He was a pureblood wizard who was proud of the fact. He disdained anyone who was not. But he had also spent over a decade in Azkaban, the wizard prison. That lent the idea that he might not be completely sane. He also had a sadistic side. He could control himself but, when the situation warranted the need to use force, he would respond excessively. And he would enjoy it. Lastly, he was very protective of Draco, but it was something he did not enjoy. The best guess was that Draco's father had tricked him into making a wizard's oath, an unbreakable vow, to give help whenever it was needed. To date, in order to help Draco, he had killed a dementor and beaten his own nephew half to death.

Rodolphus Lestrange was now deliberately violating one of the Minister's restrictions, to the point of appearing in a muggle pub well outside of Hogsmeade. He was doing something that would cause a disturbance. And Draco remembered. The Ministry was falling. It was a slow fall. It might take another year, nor more than two. And Rodolphus Lestrange was hoping that once the government fell, it fell into chaos.

"He's that weak?" Draco asked quietly.

Rodolphus's permanent grin became a full smile. "Smart boy," he whispered in return. "It must come from all the time you spend with that mudblood, Granger." He looked at his watch again, and waved Draco away. "You have a birthday party, I believe."

Draco glanced at his pickle watch as he walked over to Janice and Mick. It had just gone Noon. He was halfway there when the outside door behind him opened. A familiar voice was heard clearly stating that they were exactly on time. Draco turned around and Hermione hugged him and wished him a happy birthday. Justin was behind her laughing. He wished his best mate a happy birthday, then stepped aside to let the others in. Hermione's parents came in escorting Colin Creevey. And another boy who looked like the younger version. Colin introduced Draco to his brother, Dennis. "He's going to school with us, next month."

Draco smiled at the thought. When the greetings were done, he gladly helped push the tables together. Next came a quick meal of fish and chips, Mac's specialty. As they finished, Rodolphus Lestrange joined them, taking the empty seat between Justin and Colin. That was the cue for the moment they were waiting for. The waitress brought the cake, fourteen candles burning merrily on top. As she placed it in front of Draco, someone opened the door.

It was a squat woman in a green tweed jacket and matching skirt. She stood in the doorway of the Anglian Pub. On her jowly face was a frown as she looked to the corner table where a waitress was setting a birthday cake in front of the young blond teenager.

"Hem, Hem," the woman said loudly to get everyone's attention. "What is the meaning of this?"

Draco paused to look up but was encouraged by his friends and family, particularly his godfather, to make a wish. He paused again briefly as the woman expressed her outrage that a party was going on. But that was not the reason. He proved that by blowing out all the candles before she finished her sentence. The woman stormed over to the table (actually a grouping of tables set together to seat a party of twelve). She was about to shout again when Rodolphus Lestrange, his back to her, stood up. Draco could see his eyes sparkle as he turned around.

"YOU," the woman shouted indignantly.

"Must be his wife," someone sitting at the bar said.

"His ex," the man's neighbor suggested.

The woman turned toward the regular patrons and snarled. She turned back as the man she recognized spoke out. "I am blessed to say neither."

"Girlfriend?" a voice asked with a laugh.

"If she was, my wife would laugh louder than you did."

As almost everyone in the pub laughed, the now red faced woman reached inside her coat. Rodolphus grabbed her hand. From the wince on her face, it was quite forceful.

"We're having a party, Dolores," he said pleasantly. "There's no reason to make a scene."

"Rodolphus Lestrange, You're not allowed to be here. All I have to do is say one word to the Minister and you'll be sent back to Az . . . eh, prison."

"It's not a prison. It's a school. It only feels like one, and then only when the students are there." His smile never faded.

"I have the Minister's ear," Dolores said meaningfully.

"He'll want it back." Rodolphus politely acknowledged the laughter that he received.

"I'll have you know I am his Deputy Assistant in charge of . . ."

"NOTHING." Rodolphus's shout silenced her. "Ten years ago you were his Deputy Assistant. And you still are. No promotion. No advancement. You may have his ear but he has your number. All you are is a glorified clerk in the . . . Department of Education." He managed to keep his smile while snarling at her. "Remember that, you useless piece of baggage." He turned back to the table.

"I said, did you want a slice of cake," Janice called. She gave Draco a wink.

"A small one, about half of what the birthday boy has." He turned back to Dolores. "Is this conversation over?"

"I'll tell the Minister," Dolores threatened in a whisper.

"Why not the PM? I have his number on my cell. I'll ring him for you."

Dolores tried to shake her hand free from his grasp, but failed. Rodolphus smiled as usual. "Remember the rules, you old witch," he whispered. "If you cause a scene, you will be held responsible. Crouch will make sure he gets the truth."

Dolores visibly paled. She eyed the table carefully. No one took her seriously. No one looked at her with respect. No one cared what she did. And Rodolphus had made a very serious threat. The Minister would not hesitate, had never hesitated, to use veritiserum. If you were innocent, why would you object? And the last person she looked at was Draco Malfoy. He gave her a sinister smile that showed he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"I'm here to make sure the boy is working, as he is supposed to be doing."

A new voice was heard. Mac, the owner and barkeep of the Anglian. "Then you should be talking to me instead of harassing my paying customers."

One of the customer's called out. "Mac, pull me a pint. I want to hear the rest of this."

Dolores walked away from the table and approached the bar. "I must insist that we talk in private."

Mac sneered. "This is as private as we're going to get, Miss. And before you ask, I gave the boy two hours off for his birthday and he brought in eleven paying customers as a result. I have good business reasons for letting him have that party."

"Ten," Mick called out from the table. "Janice is payin' for me."

Mac gave Dolores a snide look. "I stand corrected." He handed a full pint to the waiting customer and grabbed another glass. "Any more questions? Well, I have a few. Do you have any answers?" When he received no reply except for a scowl, he added angrily, "Then either order something or get out of my place. And I'll personally let the Department know not to send YOU around here again."

There was a round of applause as the woman left.

"Mac," the patron with the pint called out, "that bloke with the party had better lines than you."

"He has a better writer," Mac replied. He walked the pint over to Rodolphus Lestrange and gave him his thanks as well as the glass.

"Professor?" Hermione Granger asked. "Will you be in trouble?"

"From her? Unlikely. When I last met her, everyone knew what she was like. Self-centered and ambitious. She didn't care who she stepped on. Crouch doesn't like people like that, and when she stepped on a capable man so that she could become a deputy assistant, everyone noticed." His smile grew for an instant. "And it seems they remembered. Dolores can do anything she wants, because no one will listen. They probably sent her to check on Draco as an excuse to get her out of the office."

"Was that me present?" Draco was smiling as he asked.

"Consider it a bonus," Rodolphus said as he picked up his new pint glass

"Then I got me wish," Draco added. "I wanted somethin' fun to happen." He was still smiling as he shoveled the rest of his cake into his mouth.

The small boy at the far end of the table smiled at the same time. Dennis had finally been handed his piece of cake. It was one thing to be permitted to tag along to a birthday party. It was another to receive the fruits of your labour.

"Colin, this is great cake."

The waitress smiled. "I'll tell my Mum you said that. She's the one who baked it." "Your mum cooks here?"

The waitress laughed. "No. But she does own the bakery two doors down."

All too soon, Draco was full. He had plenty of company. And he had answered quite a few questions. Hermione wanted to make sure he wasn't worked too hard. And she had looked up all the child labour laws. Justin pointed out that Draco's hand felt rough. He was told it was probably the callouses. And smiled when he saw his friend grinning.

Hermione noticed the grin and had to ask what Draco had been doing that he would develop callouses so quickly. She laughed when Draco leaned over and whispered that he was learning the guitar. Justin, sitting next to Hermione, insisted she tell the secret or else they'd have to whisper it around the entire table.

Colin, sitting at the opposite head of the table, said he could guess, adding that he saw an old guitar case with a birthday bow on it. The birthday boy smiled and told him no. The bow was there so Mac wouldn't forget it. Mac had promised he'd know his gift by that bow. Colin smiled.

"That still tells me your secret."

"Not much of one, really," Draco replied.

"That you can play a guitar?"

"That I'm LEARNING to play," came the correction. "Been at it just a month now."

* * *

Draco had already explained that he had to work for the summer as a condition of his continued schooling. And he couldn't be paid. The excuse was that he would be getting a course credit or some other nonsense. Another condition was that he not know the person he would be hired by.

Mac agreed at once to be someone Draco had never met. Janice had called him as soon as Mick left with Draco and the Ministry Auror, someone named Savage, to show them a couple of places he knew that were looking for help. The Anglian Pub was the first stop. As they pulled to a stop, the Auror looked around to see if anyone was watching, then asked Mick, "Both you and your wife know about Draco?"

"And kept it a secret from each other for most of a year?"

The gruff Auror laughed along with Mick, then asked a strange question. "Do you mind if I change before we go in? I know Draco don't, but . . . it's a magic change." The man changed in an instant. Mick was staring as Draco laughed.

"I'm an expert at disguises," the Auron said, then turned to the back seat. "Wotcher, Draco. This a setup or we stoppin' for drinks first?"

"Wotcha, Tonks, an' I'm hopin' for both," Draco told her.

"You 'kay?" Tonks asked Mick, who nodded, swallowed hard, then grinned. She pulled out a mirror, looked at her black hair, then changed it to pink. "I'm ready, then."

"He know?" Tonks asked Draco as they knocked on the door of the pub. It would not open for another hour.

"Ol' frien' of Moody."

Draco felt a sense of pride at the look Tonks gave him. A look that she was impressed by the man without having even met him. She gave the man the same look when Mac admitted he had an opening and asked if she was interested. Her reply was, "That was good. If I didn't know better, I would have believed you."

Mac's response was, "I was told you were a man."

"Was," Tonks admitted, then changed the subject briefly by asking what brands of beer were to be had. Then she, Mick and Mac sat at a table, each with a pint (and Draco with a lemonade and a scowl). Tonks explained that she was a Metamorphmagus, able to change her features at will. Since she knew Draco, she wasn't allowed to be his escort. But Savage had an emergency, and she covered for him in the best possible way.

And they discussed what Draco would do. He had to spend time in the pub. People would be by to check on him. Mac said he'd let the boy hang around in the storage room, have him help out when things were busy for lunch and if anyone unusual showed. And make sure he was gone before the evening crowd came in. Mick helped things along by saying Draco had to do something. Sitting around wouldn't do. Draco started to groan. Tonks suggested he could learn the violin or something.

"The violin?" Draco asked.

"Or somethin'," Tonks insisted. "That or read schoolbooks all day."

"Violin sounds good."

"You got one?" Mac asked and the boy shook his head. "Can you afford one?" Another shake of the head. Mac smiled. "I have an old guitar. In good condition. I use it often enough to relax." He looked sternly at Draco. "If you break it, all the magic in the world won't save you."

Mac took the time during the first week to show Draco what notes were, how to finger the chords, and how to tune the instrument. He also gave the boy an old book called "Your First Guitar". Draco asked if this was Mac's first book as well. He was told yes.

And Draco learned. He mostly learned the need to develop callouses and to rest his fingers so he would not get blisters instead. And he learned by the simple expedient of having little else to do. The pub was small, in a town that was small. Mac and one waitress handled the lunch crowd. There was an extra hand for the nighttime. Mac was around more often than not, as he lived on the second floor.

* * *

Everyone had heard the story how Draco was hired, and now they learned what he did in his spare time. It was Mister Granger who spoke. He was the designated driver for the group and, with his wife, was also the chaperone. "A month is enough time to learn something, or to learn you're not good at it. Have you learned any songs?"

"One," Draco admitted, blushing as Janice and Mick laughed and Cheryl asked if he would play.

"Will Mac lend you his guitar?" Hermione asked. "I'd love to hear you play something."

"Can't," Draco demurred. He leaned over and whispered, "Cheryl's here." The truth be told, he was tired.

"You can't play because of her?" Hermione was confused

"That's not true," Janice explained to everyone. "He can, but he has to do it over and over. It's the only thing she'll let him play."

Missus Granger interrupted. Perhaps they should do something for Draco before they made him embarrass himself. She nodded to her daughter. Hermione smiled and reached into the bag that sat between her and Justin. She pulled out a brightly wrapped book shaped present. Draco wasn't surprised. He would have been if it were a different shape. And he unwrapped it.

"Neverwhere?" Draco turned the paperback book over for the description. It was a muggle book about a secret side of London. He didn't know the story but thought it an excellent choice from a witch who had to keep magic a secret. No books on quidditch allowed.

Justin smiled and reached into the same bag for his present. It was also book shaped, which in Justin's case meant nothing. It could still be anything. And it was. It was a gift that revealed that someone had prior knowledge of how Draco was spending his summer holiday. Mick knew, and worked with Justin's dad. That was why Draco was holding a book of "Songs for Guitar". He looked through the pages and stopped somewhere short of the middle. He had decided the next song he would learn, once he finished with the beginner's book.

Colin, with brother Dennis, was less formal. Dennis was there as a last minute invite. He had received his letter to Hogwarts only three days before. As their parents were muggles, this made it unusual (but not rare) that two children who were not twins would be capable of magic. Colin gave Dennis their present and he tossed it across the table. Draco caught it and opened the roughly round shaped gift wrapped only in a paper bag. He laughed. It was from an old show that had been on for years. Dennis had said that it was his favorite and told him he had a poster of his favorite character, one that Draco even recognized. He opened the bag to Hermione and offered her a Jelly Baby.

"One more," Mick said as he signaled. Mac nodded and reached down behind the bar. Draco knew the guitar case was there and half hoped, then sighed when Mac stood up and handed the bow to the waitress. She nodded and walked into the kitchen area and came out again.

Draco stared. The bow was sitting on the small end of a brand new guitar case. Everyone would demand he play something now but he didn't care. It was so unexpected. As he was handed the case, everyone applauded. The few people at the bar, and the couple at the other occupied table joined in. He opened the case and pulled out his present. With care, he moved his chair back so he could comfortably hold the guitar without hitting anything, or anyone. Then he strummed, playing the basic chords he had learned, smiling to find that the instrument had already been tuned.

That was when the first request came for him to play something. He smiled and admitted that the best thing he could play was over the hills and far away. But he was committed. And everyone already knew that he could play a song. Janice told them that Cheryl liked it, albeit she was only two. So Draco nodded his head. He would play.

As the entire pub grew quiet, Draco began, singing along with the music:

_Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star . . ._


	3. The Reporter

Chapter Three: The Reporter

"Check the Chips," Mac called back through the door to the kitchen. Draco, just inside the storage room, put his guitar down and picked up his apron. He dutifully checked to make sure the Fish and the Chips were still fresh, not that he didn't know but because a stranger might happen to see into the kitchen. One of those strangers was Sirius Black, ordered to verify that his legal ward was indeed working. He went back with the confirmation that the owner of the pub made almost two hundred pounds from a certain birthday party.

"All good, Mac," Draco said as he walked out with a rack of clean pint glasses. Any casual observer would think that the boy had been working steadily all day. Any stranger would see a young boy performing his task. And only Sirius Black would casually ask if it was a trick. "I've never known Draco to do an honest day's work."

"No trick, Sir," Mac said politely. "All it takes is a firm hand and a kind manner, and the boy will do anything you ask."

Draco would frown as the two men laughed.

"Seriously . . ."

"Sorry, I thought your name was Sirius BLACK."

Even Draco had to groan at the bad joke.

His mind snapped back to the present as he finished stacking the pint glasses. He returned the rack to the kitchen and stayed there a few minutes. He stuck his head out the door and asked if he should put more fish up. The lady talking to Mac saw him. She pointed a red fingernail and asked if that was the boy.

Draco was surprised. The woman looked, not beautiful, but tantalizing. And not in the way the rich girls around Grimauld Square did. She had bejeweled glasses covering blue eyes. The jewels were probably fake and the curly blond hair was probably dyed but the three gold teeth she showed when she smiled were definitely real. She brought to mind a black widow spider looking at its mate. Just before she eats it.

"Draco," the woman drawled sweetly, "I need to interview you for . . ." She looked around deftly. ". . . a report I'm making for the Department of Education." As she was talking, she walked around the bar and directly to Draco. As she pushed him back into the kitchen, she smiled and said, in no uncertain terms, "it would be best if we talk privately."

"Fish and Chips," Draco offered as the woman looked around the kitchen in disgust.

"No house elves?"

"'at's me. Can Draco get Mistress anything? Food? Drink? Bo'le of Scotch?"

A large hand was held out for Draco to shake. And the woman introduced herself. Rita Skeeter. Reporter with the Daily Prophet. And she would love a scotch.

Draco went back to the door, opening it slightly. "Mac, a Dewers neat." A nod of his head told Mac and any curious patrons who it was for. He came back and handed Miss Skeeter the glass. "Draco is happy to serve."

Rita Skeeter drank the contents in one shot and handed the glass to Draco. She acknowledged that the muggle kitchen looked even worse than the muggle bar but the alcohol was potent enough. Then she opened her notebook and began to write. More correctly, the quill she brought out began to write as she dictated.

"I am interviewing Draco Malfoy, the twelve year old boy who . . ."

"Fourteen, I had a birthday."

"Then you should be thirteen."

"Unlucky number. I skipped it."

"Gooood line. Draco Malfoy, the fourteen year old boy who wowed the sports world a few months earlier with his textbook maneuver during a school Quidditch match at Hogwarts."

As she talked, Draco couldn't help notice that the quill continued to write, adding on its own the phrase 'an instant classic,' before the word, maneuver. Then she asked Draco her first question. What was he thinking?

The quill began writing, '_I was caught up in the moment. I knew I had to do something brash. Something bold . . ._"

"Thinking? I jumped off me broom 'alf a K inna air. I was thinkin' that if I was right, I would make a lot of people happy and, considerin' me rep, If I was wrong, I'd still make a lot of people happy."

A glance at the Quill showed that it had tagged Draco's answer to the end of its own quote, and polished up the language. _'I could not help but think that if I judged correctly, I would bring joy to the hearts of many. But I also have a reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived. I knew that if I were wrong, I would still bring joy to certain people._'

"Nice Quill. Can I get one of those?"

"Maybe later. Draco, (May I call you Draco?) Our readers are dying to know all about you. The real you. We read all those torrid stories, but . . . that isn't you. Is it?"

"What's torrid mean?"

Rita Skeeter froze in mid smile. The quill also stopped. "Um . . . hot . . . in a literary sense."

"They write porn about me?" Draco couldn't believe it.

"I would call it an in depth analysis of what was suggested may have happened . . ."

"'tween me an' Ginny Weasley. Yeah, lady. (You mind I call you lady?) They write porn about me." Draco couldn't help thinking he should read the newspaper more often.

"I haven't," Rita Skeeter said forcefully. "Sex may sell a newspaper but it won't get your byline on the front page. I prefer bigger game. Give me an incompetent government official and I'll give you a month of headlines." She pointed to the glass Draco was still holding. "I could use a refill."

A short while later, the interview continued. There were a few questions about Quidditch. How did Draco develop his interest in the game? Was he a natural flier? Did he have an active girlfriend? When the quill automatically began writing an answer to that last question, Draco shrugged his shoulders. He was Draco Malfoy. He could have any girl he wanted. As long as he didn't want substance.

Draco didn't really say that. The quill simply wrote it. Nor did he object. He liked that sentence. It made him sound arrogant.

On the subject of girls, he was honest. He'd too many things on his mind to pursue any interests. And while he was old enough to think about it, he had little chance to do anything. The quill quoted him word for word. "I don't want a girlfriend just to have one. I'd want someone I know, someone I can talk to." On impulse he added, "like you. Talking to you is easy."

Rita smiled when he said that, and pointed out that she was older than he was. Draco blushed slightly and lowered his head as he said 'so was me mum'. A warm hand brushed against his cheek then pushed up on his chin to force him to look up. Rita was still smiling when she said, 'that was very convincing'.

"Meant that. Not that you're like me mum. More like a kindred spirit. You know, go for what you want and the rest be damned."

"Don't write that," Rita told the quill. "Just remember, Draco. I have more experience. And if you get in my way, I'll run right over you."

"Don't want to get in the way. Jus' want to tag along for a bit. Might be fun. First, I would like to know why you're interviewing me. I already guessed that the Ministry don't know you're here."

"Victor Krum."

"Who?"

Rita's jaw dropped. "Please tell me you are joking."

It was to Rita Skeeter's credit that she did not immediately ask for another drink. She asked politely when Draco was free. They definitely had to talk. Draco admitted he would be finished in a few hours.

* * *

After Draco had finished his day of work and music lessons, he stepped from the Anglian Pub to find no one waiting for him. Shrugging his shoulders, he set off down the road. The most pressing thought on his mind was if he should stop by Ephram's on the way. Janice would know what he did if he didn't appear by a certain time.

It was a quiet stretch of the road when a familiar hand grabbed his shoulder. Rita Skeeter was suddenly behind him. She looked around carefully and told Draco to grab her hand. Then she took a curious step. The street disappeared and a fancy restaurant lobby took its place. In a thrice, Draco was led to a private room.

Rita was being overly polite and Draco knew why. She had her hands on a big story. Best of all, she was going to explain why he played such a big part in it. That it had to do with Quidditch was a plus.

First off, Draco was quizzed about what he knew about teams. First off, really, Rita Skeeter ordered drinks and placed their menu order. Then she asked about Professional teams. He admitted he had heard of them but he only knew of Puddlemere, because Oliver Wood had once mentioned one of their scouts was in the stands. There was also the Chuddley Cannons, Ron Weasley's favorite team. He knew a bit more about them. Their uniforms were orange and they hardly ever won a match.

Then he was asked about the World Quidditch Cup. That was easier to answer. He heard about it. He assumed it was like the World Football Cup and had been told once that he was correct as far as how often it was played. He even heard about one of the recent matches, Greece beat Mexico by a close score.

Rita smiled at him. She paused as the discrete waiter delivered her cocktail and gave Draco a butterbeer. Once the waiter left, she began her explanation by telling him that Greece was defeated last month. By Bulgaria, who now face Ireland in the final match. It seems that Bulgaria have the highest ranked Seeker in the sport. Draco returned her smile and said, "Victor Krum".

"And he did something surprising to catch the snitch. He jumped off his broom, then remounted in mid-air. And he did it in a manner to show that he had practiced. The extra speed he gained gave him a clear advantage in catching the snitch."

Draco nodded. "And, what's your point?"

Rita laughed. Then she paused as dinner was served. Veal medallions in a honey glaze, she explained. With vegetables in a wonderful white wine and mustard sauce. Once they were alone, she laughed again.

"You, my little cretin, were the first to use that maneuver. That's my point. And now it has been used in a Quidditch Cup match. And it was the deciding factor. That makes you very popular."

Draco nodded. It was time to remember his fancy voice. "You have been informed about the Minister's decree. I am not allowed to associate with anyone in the magical world until I return to school." He paused to put a piece of veal in his mouth, and made approving noises as he chewed. "You do know that even this meal is a violation of his orders."

Rita waved her hands to show that was why they were in a private room. Then she noted that going in that muggle pub was not only repugnant but also against the Minister's orders. That was why she chose to break the law in more comfortable and pleasing surroundings. Draco nodded and repeated his question. What was the point? He did something stupid and someone else turned it around into something useful. How could an interview with him possibly be important? On the other hand, he managed a fancy meal.

"You don't know," Rita Skeeter said with a strange voice. As though she were confused and excited. "Do you know when the World Cup match is being played?" Draco shook his head. "Do you know where?" Again Draco shook his head. "On Monday. And not very far from where I found you."

She gave him a very sinister smile. "Are you interested in going?"

"Ain't allowed."

"I didn't ask if you were allowed to go. I asked if you wanted to?"

Draco returned the smile. "Why? Are you going to invite me?" He concluded his question by stabbing the last green bean with his fork, rubbing it in the remaining sauce on the plate and eating it. "Are we having dessert?"

"And you're only fourteen. " Rita flicked her wand. A waiter shortly appeared, removed the plates, and paused as an order was placed. Draco licked his lips in anticipation as a blackberry crumble was ordered. As quickly as the waiter left, he returned with the dessert. Draco tried to keep from drooling. This wasn't only a crumble. The oats and nuts in the topping made that obvious. It was going to be the best he ever had. As the reporter watched him, he took the dessert fork and began. After his first mouthful, he promised to do whatever Rita wanted.

Rita's plan was simple. Despite no one telling him, Draco had been invited to the World Cup. By the Bulgarian Ministry. At the request of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team. At the insistence of their seeker. It would be a simple matter for Draco's acceptance to be forwarded. And that would mean that a certain reporter would have access to the hottest story of the year.

Draco was surprised. He understood what she meant. If he appeared at the World Quidditch Cup despite the Minister's express order, it would be a direct slap at the government. And that would make front page news.

"Minister didn't tell anyone I can't go?"

"Only those involved in watching you."

"And they're making excuses?"

"My sources say you will try, but personal circumstances may prevent it."

Draco hesitated long enough to fill his fork. "Yeah, I'll go." He then proceeded to clean his plate.

* * *

After the dinner was over, Draco found himself back where he had been. On a quiet section of road with no one around. He walked home with a satisfied grin. At Janice's quizzical look he explained that he had already eaten. Then he mentioned Quidditch. And the Quidditch Cup. And that he had an invite. Janice, to her credit, did not laugh when he said he had to call Hermione. She patted him on the shoulder and wished him good luck on sneaking in.

"You're smart," Draco said into the phone. "You can do it. Let them know I can go but I have no way of getting there. They can send someone to pick me up."

Hermione was horrified at the thought. For Draco to attend was a blatant violation of the Minister's orders. The Minister would do something about it. All he had to do was wait until after the match. When no one, least of all the Bulgarians, would care what happened to a boy of fourteen, regardless of how blond he was.

Draco had to ask why his being blond might make a difference. He actually heard Hermione scowl. She told him she was trying to make a point. Then she showed she was thinking about it when she asked how he knew he had been invited. Draco replied as clearly as he could by saying, "Um . . ."

Hermione said she would think about it and call him back. That meant she was going to do her best to find out what was going on. He looked at the pickle watch. It was late enough that he could go to bed early claiming he was tired. That way, if anyone came calling, he might not have to deal with it. On the other hand, whoever came would probably be more than happy to wake him up.

Andrew began crying. Thus ended his one plan to escape the questioning he knew would come. But it didn't happen that night. It happened on Saturday. At the pub. Before it opened.

Draco was walking to the door to knock when a car pulled up next to him and parked. The woman who was driving smiled at him as Sirius Black exited. He frowned at Draco and knocked on the door. Mac showed little surprise that Draco would have company.

Sirius never introduced the woman, although she did follow them inside. A tall woman, maybe even as tall as Sirius, her short brown hair contrasted with Black's dark locks. But she did have a way of standing that told anyone smart enough to notice that she could take care of herself.

Then Sirius Black gave the reason he had come. The Bulgarian Minister contacted him, personally, on how to make arrangements to pick up a certain young man and escort him as their guest to the World Quidditch Cup. He was delighted that circumstances permitted Draco to attend after all.

Draco explained that he did not know anything about it, that he was very much surprised.

Sirius Black explained that he had already confronted Hermione Granger about it after the Minister's aides confirmed that it was indeed her that had sent them the owl informing them whom to contact.

Draco lied. He didn't know anything about it, but he had heard that someone tried his trick in a professional Quidditch match. He did have a birthday party, he reminded his guardian.

Sirius Black turned to the woman. "Do you see? Do you see what I have to deal with?" He turned back to Draco. "That match was held the day after your birthday. You couldn't have heard about it unless Professor Trelawney was there. And even then she'd probably tell you that someone was going to die."

Draco shrugged, but he also gave his best smile. "'ave to go wit'" He cleared his throat. "I will have to claim it is a professional secret. I may have to use it again." He gave a polite bow to the woman. "You do understand, my dear."

While the woman smiled in amusement, Sirius found himself with Mac's arm on his shoulder. He nodded and took a deep breath. The boy showed him too many times he knew how to make him angry. "I promise you, Malfoy. I will make the arrangements. And I will also make sure that something happens that means you won't be able to attend the match. If I need to, I will personally chain you to a wall before I leave for the match, myself."

Sirius smiled at Mac. "I'll leave you the key and let you know when you can release him." With that, he turned to the woman and suggested they leave. She gave him a smile as they turned and walked out of the pub. Mac patted Draco's shoulder and told him it couldn't be helped. Draco nodded his head as he went to start his morning chores to help set up the place for opening. He had already decided. He would ask Tonks for help. He called Hermione as soon as he had the chance.

* * *

Tonks wouldn't help. Apparently, Sirius Black had talked with several people about what Draco was planning. He wanted to insure that Draco did not get any help. Those people included Rodolphus Lestrange. It also included another conversation with Hermione Granger. That was when he found out how closely related people were in the world of magic. When Draco called, Hermione's parents answered. She had already left for the Weasley household. But she did leave a phone number to call in case of an emergency.

Draco called. A woman answered. It was a shot in the dark. "Tonks?"

"Draco?"

"It is you!"

"Sorry, no. Let me get Sirius for you." Draco heard the woman say, "It's him. You were right."

Admittedly, Draco was confused. Wizards and witches rarely understood muggle artifacts. He even had to explain to his godfather, at his birthday party, what Justin meant when that noise went off and he said it was his cell. And his godfather proved his intelligence when that Dolores lady appeared. He made a deliberate reference to cell phones in his retort, making him seem a muggle. Draco coined a new phrase. He showed muggle awareness. He was muggly aware. He was muggleable. Then Draco laughed. It sounded like any stranger who wandered into his old neighbourhood.

"Draco," Sirius said loudly, the woman told him to talk normally. "I've already been assured by Rodolphus Lestrange that no one in his family, including his niece, will help you. Thank you for calling." His voice was heard in the background. "How do I stop this?"

The woman's voice was heard. "Just close it like -"

Draco was undeterred. He called home. Janice was amused. And Draco knew why. He had been challenged. He was told he couldn't do something. He was told that he couldn't do it because they didn't want him to. And he was determined to do it just because.

"Janice, do you mind?"

"Whot you plannin' now?"

"Go to London. There's a magic inn there. Good chance someone's stayin' there who can 'elp. It's a long shot."

"Stop in to see Miss Carmichael on your way. Let her know I'm posting some prints."

"Right. An' if it don't go off, I'll stop an' see Nigel. He'll put me up."

He hung up the phone. "Mac?"

"I'm not giving my permission."

"Only got a week left anyway. "

Draco hesitated. Mac was someone different in his life. Not someone special. He was Alastor Moody's best mate when they were growing up, and his sounding board for many of the cases he puzzled over. Mac probably knew more about the wizarding world than any muggle. And that was saying a lot. If he disapproved then it was clearly a bad idea, and not only a foolish one.

The first thing Mac pointed out was that they would stop him. Draco was only a boy and they, an unknown number of wizards, knew what he was planning on doing. They would know how to stop him and where to stop him. And where to stop him was most likely to be where they felt like.

Then he asked Draco's plan. The boy admitted that all it amounted to was going to the Leaky Cauldron and seeing if he could find anyone who could help him. Not a great plan, but it was all he had.

"It pays to have a complete plan," Mac told him. "Do you have anywhere you can stay in London? Give them a call. You're taking the train to school next week, so plan on staying in town. Bring everything with you that you need for school. When your plan falls through, which it will without a barrel full of luck, you won't be left high and dry." He put a hand on Draco's shoulder, and his voice became softer. "Give them a run for their money, then visit your friends. It's only a week, but I know you can make a full holiday of it."

And there it was. A complete plan. Use the excuse of trying to get to the Quidditch match as the means to spend a week visiting friends. Noontime found him disembarking the train in London. He had his backpack with everything he needed, and his guitar case. He also had two packages of prints he now had to hand deliver (one to Miss Carmichael, one to Detective Givens). Nigel had already told him he was welcome to stay. He even talked to Dudley. They would get together at some point. It would be a great week.


	4. London

A/N: I read somewhere that writing is supposed to get easier as you go along. For me, it keeps getting harder. I spend most of my time rewriting the next chapter because I thought of something better. Why couldn't I think of it the first time.

My thanks to everyone who has taken their time to read ths story.

Chapter Four: London

It was a long walk to Nigel's garage. Draco could have gone straight to the Leaky Cauldron as he had planned but then he would have to take his guitar along. Not a good idea if it all worked out. One thing he had was enough time. And he even had money. Not much, but enough to last if he was careful.

The garage was almost as he remembered. Both bays were open when he arrived, and Nigel could be seen working on another bike. Draco almost laughed when he saw it. The front fender looked almost like the squeezed hood of a Rolls Royce. Nigel looked up and waved. He pointed with one arm to indicate the living area. Draco took his cue to put his things away.

It was almost a homecoming as Draco put his belongings in what was once his bedroom. It looked the worse from lack of use but it was still serviceable. He opened the window to let it air out. Then he went back downstairs to make his excuses to Nigel.

The living room/den looked almost the same as he remembered, but it did look cleaner. And it smelled different. When he last stayed with Nigel, there had always been a stale smell. Draco peeked in the kitchen out of curiosity. That was cleaner as well. No dishes left wanting. No bin filled with empty bottles.

His eyes widened as a sudden thought hit him. He opened the refrigerator to confirm his hunch.

Last summer, Nigel had been shot. Even though he was a muggle, he was taken to Saint Mungo's Hospital. And Draco remembered what they told him. They had taken out the traces of drugs in Nigel's body as well as healed his wound. Last year, there was always a minimum of twenty bottles getting cold. Now there were four. And that explained the smell. Less beer meant less beer smell.

"Yeah," Nigel said as he looked into the kitchen at Draco, "Don't know wha' happened but when I hit me head, must've knocked somethin' back into place."

Draco smiled. Hitting his head was a made up story. Nigel didn't remember Saint Mungo's.

"You don't drink as much."

"Don't get the urge to. Miss the taste sometimes. But them feelings don't come anymore. Least they ain't as bad. More like bad memories. And you? Mick came around early on the summer, said you 'ad to work as part of your schoolin'. You could've come 'ere."

Draco smiled. "Din't t'ink of it. Found somethin' near to Janice, where she an' Mick are livin' now."

Nigel smiled at memories. "They got two kids now. Can't believe it. Not really."

"Got plenty of pics, if you're in'erested."

Nigel grinned and said later. Then he dragged Draco into the garage proper to show off his latest project. The garage looked the same except there was a car over in the far bay, covered in a large tarp. Behind it was a motorbike, also covered with a tarp. But in the middle of the near bay was the bike that Draco had spied earlier. His guess had been correct. The bike looked like someone squeezed a Rolls around it. And the way Nigel designed it, it looked ritzy instead of funny.

After pointing out every thing he had done, he dragged Draco over to the corner and pulled off the tarp covering the other bike. It was a brilliant chrome with streaks of gold. It looked pretty but nothing fancy. Nigel had him step back several feet and it became obvious. The gold streaks gave the outline of a galloping horse when seen at a distance but step too close and they were only pretty lines. It was a skillful trick.

That led the conversation into what other projects Nigel was working on and what plans he was making. And he wasn't sitting around when things were slow. He pulled out a sketchbook to show plans that he made. Drawings of fantastic things: A black Dragon with flaming eyes; A giant scarlet she-spider; A space fighter that looked like it could whip anything from Star Trek or Star Wars. A second folder showed sketches of designed bikes. A handful at the beginning had photos on the opposite page of the finished bike. After that were drawings of what future bikes could look like.

"Cor." As the shop darkened, Draco noticed the time. The sun was setting and there were less than two hours before the Quidditch World Cup began. He hadn't even left for the Leaky Cauldron yet. But he had been enjoying himself. Then Nigel asked him if he'd like to see something great. He walked over to the car and pulled off the tarp. Draco was willing to forget the match.

As Draco's eyes bulged, Nigel explained that this was what he had done over the last year while "someone else was goin' to school".

It looked beautiful. It was bright blue with white stripes trimming the bottom edges. It was obviously a Mini, but Draco had to ask. Nigel, enjoying his friend's reaction, told him it was an Austin Mini Cooper, Mark III. He had found it abandoned and rusted. And he even made a few of the parts in restoring it. Some things he couldn't make but it was only a matter of time before it was running proper.

The blond boy nodded in appreciation. He had never seen this model in the shop when he worked here with Mick. Or on the road for that matter. This car was extremely rare.

Nigel nodded when asked about it. He said it was his insurance policy if the business failed. He was making enough of a profit from selling the bikes. The problem was, and would always be, selling enough of them.

Draco was looking at the interior when the sound of a fire engine was heard going by. He noticed it with mild interest. Nigel was the one who hesitated when they heard the second one pass. As a third one could be heard, both stepped outside to see where it was heading.

"Looks near Grimauld Square," Nigel said casually.

Draco paused. His paranoia was rising. "You don't think?"

Nigel smirked. No. He didn't think that. But he could make a call to the home. Miss Carmichael could tell them if the fire was nearby. Or they could race after the fire engines. The remark drew a laugh from Draco. Did he really know the number? Nigel laughed in return.

"It's written down, you know." Nigel's grin grew wider. "You don' know. I'll show you."

Now they were walking into the office and behind the counter. Nigel pointed out that it was months before he found it. Called it once, trying to get hold of Mick and was surprised at who answered. They walked to where Janice used to sit and answer the phone, back before Cheryl was born. The phone was still on the wall but Nigel was pointing to the counter. To the old pullout piece of wood. It was supposed to be for a place to write when the counter couldn't be used. Draco had never used it. Had never bothered about it.

Nigel pulled it out. In faded ink was the number for the home. Draco stifled a sudden urge to cry. Above it, Janice had written one word. Mum.

Draco could only stare. All those memories of the home forced themselves on him. Being scolded for fighting. Being warned about stealing. He remembered a time he stole food. He was at Tesco's. Someone had left their trolley to unlock their car. Draco grabbed a bag and kept walking. In and out of the parked cars. No one ever had a chance to catch him. Miss Carmichael frowned when he presented her with the bag. She frowned as she passed it to the new girl in the kitchen. That night, after a larger meal than they usually had at the home, she gave Draco a smile. And a warning to be careful.

"Used to steal asparagus when it was in season," Draco remembered. She loves asparagus. He looked up as Nigel shouted his name. "Whot? No answer?"

"Number's not working." Nigel's face was ashen. "It ain't workin'."

As quick as they could, the garage was locked up tight. Both of them began running. It might be nothing, Draco hoped. Then he tried to run faster as he heard another siren. They kept running until they saw the smoke. If it wasn't the home, it was very close. They slowed as they turned the corner and could see down Grimauld Place. At the far end of the street, just past the Square, the road was filled with fire engines and firemen. At least three hoses could be seen.

Draco saw none of the crowd as he made his way. All he knew was that the home was aflame. All of it. He pushed his way through until he could see clearly. The firefighters weren't trying to put it out so much as contain it. He stood, frozen to the spot, and watched.

Flames shot out from the open doorway he had walked through so many times. He found his old bedroom. It was wreathed in fire as a hose poured water into the open window. And he stared.

There was a loud noise after an unremembered amount of time. Firemen were yelling at the crowds to get back. The hoses were concentrated on the street for some reason. And the noise grew louder. As he watched, the roof collapsed, bringing the walls down with it. Flaming debris shot everywhere, followed by water from the hoses to make sure nothing else caught fire. And all Draco could do was watch with horror and fascination.

A touch. Someone called his name softly. He turned and it was Mahresa. "We're over here," she said and gently pulled on his arm. Half turning away, he followed her to the edge of the crowd, in an open area in the Square.

Her parents were there. The two helpers who worked at the home. Seven badly frightened children. Walking amongst them was a paramedic from an ambulance that sat near to the trucks. She was checking each child, trying to calm them. He asked about Miss Carmichael and was told they didn't know where she was.

Draco found himself sitting on the grass. He was dimly aware of the deepening shadows as the last embers were put out. For some reason, Nigel was there. Talking to the police. Something about having room at the shop, at least for tonight. He almost laughed as one policeman smiled and patted Nigel's shoulder. The idea of cops and him being friends, or even trying to be friends.

Draco was instantly alert. "Miss Carmichael?" In his surprise and shock, he had completely forgotten about her. She must have been harder hit by this than he was. After all, the home was only a place of memories for him. For her, it was her livelihood as well. She had spent more years than Draco had lived taking care of the place.

He jumped to his feet and looked around. He still didn't see her. He looked down at Mahresa, who was sitting next to him. "What happened to Miss Carmichael? Has anyone seen her yet?"

She gave him a sad smile. "Don't know. No one said anything. No one's seen 'er. Tried askin' the medic earlier. Won't tell me nuffin."

A policeman, one who had been talking to Nigel, had turned toward him. He asked if Draco knew her. Draco said she was his mum, well, the closest he ever had to one. A sad look came on the policeman's face. One that the policeman didn't intend. One that Draco recognized. He gulped hard and shook his head. It wasn't an answer he wanted to hear. The policeman looked down as though ashamed to have given him the news.

Later, it would be explained to him again. The officer went over to inform the two helpers. Everyone else was merely listening in.

The fire appeared to start in several places at once. There was a suspicion of arson but the odd thing was that the incident occurred while it was still daylight. The officer did not say so, but it appeared to be a professional job. As for Miss Carmichael, she rushed everyone out, but remained inside to find one elusive child. She did find the child. It was to her credit that she almost made it outside. She was found not far from the nearest window.

Draco didn't care. As far as he was concerned, life gave him another kick in the arse. Another person he dared to care for was gone. And he was crying again. Someone was holding him. Holding him tight. She was speaking in a language he did not understand but in a tone he knew too well. Trying to tell him he was not alone in his grief. Only more open about it. It was Mahresa's mother.

* * *

It was with red eyes he finally broke away. It was Nigel, taking him by the arm for the long walk back to the shop. As they left Grimauld Square, Inspector Givens walked up. He merely asked Nigel if there was anything he could do. Draco, for some reason, had to smile. Nigel seemed to be friends with every policeman they met. He was also grateful that Nigel refused a ride. They both knew that the walk would help him more. It would give him time to put his emotions in order. With luck, he might even fall asleep tonight.

And they did walk, neither of them saying a word, until they reached the shop. As they entered, Nigel asked his first question. Would Draco like something to drink? It might help him sleep. Knowing he should say no, he said yes. And he was grateful when Nigel went to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of beer.

He had taken his first sip when there was a knock at the door. Nigel sat his beer down and walked out of the den to the office. He came back with the last person Draco expected. Sirius Black.

"I t'ought you had a match to go to."

Sirius bowed his head. "I came as soon as I heard."

"Wanted to make sure it all went up?" Anger was welling inside Draco. "Did he want to make sure I couldn't make it?"

"I don't think he knows," Sirius said in a mild tone. "I know I didn't bother to tell him."

On impulse, Draco threw the bottle in his hand. It hit the wall, inches from where Sirius Black was standing. He responded by shouting Draco's name. Probably to shock him into calming down but it had the opposite effect.

"You promised to do anything to stop me," Draco sneered. "I guess you wanted to teach me a lesson I'll never forget." He turned his back on the man. "Well, I won't forget. You can leave now." He turned to face him again. "GET OUT."

Sirius shrugged. "I shouldn't have come. I . . . I'm sorry. About what happened."

"GET. OUT."

"NO."

Sirius Black was angry now. But Draco didn't care. He snarled again and made ready to physically attack the man. It wouldn't work but he would feel better for trying. Black might be angry but Draco could only find hate in his heart. For Black. For any wizard. For all wizards. All of the indignities he had been through from the first attack on the train, the insults, the snide remarks, the attempts on his life, up to being forced to work for the summer just to stroke the Minister's ego. And now, his guardian was here to make sure he didn't blame them. Didn't blame the wizards and witches who reminded him everyday how many of them despised him, how many of them wanted him to know how much he was despised.

"GET OUT."

"Maybe," Nigel said in a soft voice, reminding them that he was still there. "Maybe we should talk in the morning?"

Draco did look away from Black. He didn't change his expression one bit. Except to smile cruelly when Black nodded his head and suggested that Nigel was probably right. His smile held as Sirius Black turned around and left.

* * *

It was the first day of September, except Draco was not at Kings Cross. He was where he least wanted to be. In a cemetery.

Miss Carmichael received an all-expenses-paid government funeral in honour of her long service. That meant it was as cheap as possible. At least it seemed that way to Draco. He stood on the fringes, trying to avoid everyone. Janice was no problem. She was up front, crying her eyes out. Mick standing next to her, holding her with one arm and the baby with the other. Little Cheryl was crying as well.

It was a large group. Over a hundred. Most of the people were from the neighbourhood. Givens was there, with his family and Dudley. A few people vaguely remembered as coming around the home on occasion. And one man, standing by himself, waiting for the affair to end. He was the official Ministry representative. He was there because he was payed.

Someone began to give a speech, and Draco turned his back. The last thing he wanted was to listen to some hypocrite who never knew Miss Carmichael go on about what a great woman she was. No one noticed him leave.

Draco left the cemetery and crossed the street. He kept walking. All he knew was that he wanted to get as far away as he could. And stay away.


	5. On HIs Own, Almost

A/N: A Happy New Year to All. Not much to say, really. Stayed out too late. (Big surprise.) Caught a cold. Now I have an excuse to take the next week off from work.

My New Years Resolution, which I intend to keep: Enjoy Life.

Chapter Five: On His Own, Almost

When Draco left the funeral, he headed straight for Nigel's shop. His plan was to grab anything that was his and leave. Not that he had anywhere to go. He wasn't going anywhere. He was leaving.

As he drew near, he glanced down a side street. He did this at every street. A fear in the back of his mind that he might be followed. And this time he saw what he feared. A familiar looking car. Similar to the one Sirius Black's partner drove. That made Draco cautious. He turned down the street to take a closer look.

Sirius Black originally planned to take Draco to Hogsmeade after the services were concluded. Not that Draco agreed. And as Draco saw it, Black had decided to wait. If this was the same car. This is what posed the problem. Black was the last person he wanted to see. Just the thought of him, of those wizards, and their gall. Arson in daylight. Who else but a wizard would do that and know they could get away with it. They didn't mean to kill anyone, Draco thought, then mentally added a sarcastic note that accidents will happen. But it was only muggles so it shouldn't be a problem.

"Damn them, damn them all," Draco muttered. He walked away. From the shop. From the funeral. From everything he knew. London was a big enough city to lose oneself in. And that was something Draco had plenty of experience with.

* * *

The hard part about keeping one's head down is that it can be very boring. And Draco was in the position that he needed food, clothes and a place to stay. The nice suit he was wearing wouldn't stay nice for very long. His first requirement was money and he knew how to find it. That meant he had to be careful. The best place to be careful was the underground. There were plenty of people to be careful around.

As Draco rode from train to train and walked the stations, he was kept wary of two things. Cameras and uniforms. And he made it a point to look as unsuspicious as possible. The first things he stole were books. If you carried books, and you were fourteen, you were either going to school or leaving. And if you're underground, and well dressed, it must be a fancy school.

Having books in hand, Draco approached a crowd of people waiting. He waited close behind a rather large man. As the train pulled up, everyone moved forward. Draco held back just long enough to slip the unnoticed wallet into his pocket, then dashed for a less crowded door to the train. After three stops, he exited to the street. Briskly walking to the nearest quick food place, he went to use the facilities.

Taking as little time as he normally would, he exited and walked up to the counter. Pulling out a fiver, he ordered a burger combo. To go. He ate quickly as he walked to the next station. A passing bin claimed his unfinished meal as well as a wallet, empty of money.

Draco garnered little attention, although he was told at least twice that he should be more careful. Both times, he used his fancy voice to apologize. Central London was dutifully busy as the afternoon rush hour took full swing. A half dozen times, a well dressed young boy pushed through a crowd with barely a comment. But most of these people were businessmen and he had nothing to show for his efforts.

There was one close call at the end, but that was Draco's fault. Having little fortune in the tubes, he ventured aboveground. He hesitated for some reason. It was a tourist family he passed. Appropriately, they were Americans. That meant either plenty of useful money or useless plastic. As he grabbed the wallet, he knew it was money. But the family stopped as a small boy said, "Daddy, I'm tired."

An exasperated voice said they were almost there when Draco realized he was staring at the boy. Brown hair, long because Mum probably thought it was cute. And dark blue eyes. As the boy pointed, Draco knew why he was staring. The boy could have been Cheryl's twin brother.

"Daddy." The boy was still pointing. The man was turning. He eyed Draco and then looked at Draco's hand. Draco gave him a smile when he looked up again.

"Coulda walked away an' no one'd 'ave been the wiser," he told the man in an accusing voice. He handed the man the wallet. "Best be more careful, mate."

Husband, wife and three kids were thanking him. The woman suggested a reward and the man pulled out a twenty pound note. Draco shook his head. A small scene was starting. A strolling couple stopped to look when they saw the money. Another passerby stopped. These were people who would now remember him.

"No t'anks, mate. Don't need it."

Then the woman insisted he take it. The tagalongs, 3, 5 and 9, began to agree. That boy who pointed was grabbing at Draco's arms. Draco said he couldn't, he was late, anyway, and he had to go.

The oldest tagalong was telling the curious couple how Draco had found Daddy's wallet and ran all the way to return it.

Dad offered to give him a ride. His rental was parked halfway to the corner. Draco told him he wasn't going far. He took a quick look around, spotted the Empress down the way and said he was going to the Yard, his uncle worked there.

"Scotland Yard?" the five year old asked. All three tagalongs became excited, the youngest only because the other two were. They begged Mum and Dad to go along.

"Crisp It," Draco muttered. The entire situation was stupid. He was standing on the streets of London with almost a hundred quid (half of it stolen) in his pocket and some junior Yanks wanted to go with him to visit his parole officer.

The five year old heard what he said and asked what Crispy meant. "Crisp it," the nine year old told his sister. "It's that rhyming slang I read about, I bet." He looked up at Draco. "Are you a real live Cockney?"

"Then what does Crisp It rhyme with," number five asked. Mum gave Draco a look that said she figured out what word it rhymed with.

He noticed it was only him and the family again. The curious couple became bored when the confrontation became a conversation. That still didn't help. He was trapped. Tourists had latched on to a local and wanted the complete experience of meeting someone who actually lived there. And he had just cursed in front of their children.

"Sorry," Draco said sheepishly, "Janice said I shount talk like that aroun' lil'uns." As the woman raised an eyebrow, he explained that Janice was his sister, she and her husband lived in the Midlands. He was forgiven because he had a sister.

Young master nine asked about Midlands, resulting in a brief geography lesson. Then master three asked what was in that pocket. As Draco put his hand over the pocket with the money, he felt what three was pointing to. Where the inside coat pocket was. Where his wand was. Where he had shoved the money. Enough small bills that his wand was pressed against his jacket, making a conspicuous outline.

Mum and Dad were shushing the boy for being rude. Dad said it was probably a pen. "Awful big for a pen," nine said with authority.

Laughing at the absurdity of the situation, Draco pulled out his wand. He cleared his throat and used his fancy voice. "It's a baton. Or it's supposed to be. I study music. Friend gave it to me as a joke." Knowing it would do nothing, he let number three try conducting an imaginary orchestra with it. The concert ended the second time he hit Dad's leg. A very polite "could I see," came from number five. She smiled when Draco nodded. Dad handed her the wand. She held it in her hand as number nine said it looked more like one of those toy magic wands than a baton. Then five said something that made Draco's world crumble.

"It feels funny. All tingly."

Draco wasn't breathing as she handed the wand to her older brother. He barely noticed that Mum and Dad weren't breathing either. Number Nine said, "yeah, it does." and flicked his wrist as if to shake away the feeling. Bright red and blue sparks shot out of the tip of the wand and into the air.

"Bloody Hell," Draco said as he heard a loud popping noise behind him. Nine and five both jumped back in surprise but the parents didn't notice. They assumed the man had simply walked up to them.

"You are extremely lucky, Draco," Arthur Weasley told him. "I was walking by when Sirius Black asked me to keep a watch for him as he . . . went down the hall. Not even a minute and you were spotted. Your wand, please. I'll take care of these muggles, then you can give me an explanation."

"Muggles?" Mum asked.

Arthur Weasley smiled and held up a finger. "You're Yanks? How wonderful. I'll explain in a bit. Draco, your wand. I will have to . . ." Arthur's smile faded when he noticed Draco pointing. He turned and saw nine and five, both clearly frightened, standing a few feet away. A pedestrian walked between them and Arthur, clearly not noticing anything. That scared them even more.

"I didn't mean it," the boy said in abject fear.

"Ahhh," Arthur Weasley said in understanding. He looked at the now surprised parents. "And you didn't know?"

"Know what?" It was three who asked. He was hushed by Mum while Dad repeated the question. Five and Nine were debating whether to run for the hills or remain standing still.

"It appears that your son is a wizard. Oh, and I'm being rude." He held out his hand. "Arthur Weasley, Department of Muggle Intervention."

As the nervous parents shook Arthur's hand and asked what muggles were, Draco walked past him and to the two scared children. The youngest one, who knew no reason to be scared, followed after. Draco reached over and took the wand from the boy's hand and replaced it inside his jacket. This time, behind the money so it wouldn't make a bulge. He saw that Arthur Weasley and Mum and Dad were engaged in a conversation. Giving the children a quick salute, he began to run.

The youngest ruined it by yelling, "goodbye."

"Please stay with me," Arthur admonished as he apparated directly in front of Draco . He reached into the boy's pocket and removed the wand. "You did create this mess."

Another popping noise was heard, this time by everyone, and Sirius Black appeared.

"Ain't goin' back," Draco told him.

"I love complications," was Arthur's sarcastic reply. He stopped Black with a look, then added, "You don't have to, but you have to help me with the immediate problem."

"Whot problem? They know their kids can do magic."

Dad recovered enough to ask what was going on. This led Arthur to introduce Sirius to the family, to explain that he was an Auror and to explain what an Auror was. When the girl asked if he was the Uncle that Draco said he was going to visit, Sirius laughed and said he was the Uncle that Draco was running away from. Sirius gave a frown when Arthur told him the girl was a witch, her older brother a wizard and their parents two very confused muggles. He added the need to explain matters to them.

Sirius suggested in a whisper that they talk over dinner, as he had nothing to eat since the night before. He held back a remark when Draco retorted, "best not be your place, then."

Sirius Black glared at Draco. "Someone needs to pick up his belongings."

"Ain't goin' back," Draco repeated in a harsh voice.

"Back where?" Miss Five asked. When she was told it was a school, she asked if it was a magic school. Then she asked if she could take Draco's place. Mum said she had to go to regular school first, then sighed. Magic was real and her whole life had changed, and that of her whole family. All because an honest young man had found and returned her husband's wallet.

Draco's first thought was that Sirius Black didn't have to laugh that loud. His second thought was that Black should have laughed louder. Two quick backward steps as he looked over his shoulder, a pivot on his left foot and a strong kick off with his right. Two seconds later, Draco was racing across the street and directly toward the nearest station, Earls Court. Less than a minute later, thanks to luck, he was on the first train out. He smiled as he rested against the door.

"What happens now?" A scared voice asked.

Draco looked down to see young master nine.

Draco sighed. This was not what he wanted. "Why'd you follow me?"

"Scared. They're wizards. What will they do to my parents? Abby? The runt?"

"Buy 'em dinner," Draco answered. He had no choice. If he was right, Arthur Weasley would take everyone to the most obvious place in town. The Leaky Cauldron. With this thought in mind, he pulled his young partner off the train at the next stop. They boarded the next train going in the opposite direction. He pulled the boy off that train at Leicester Square. Once every five minutes, the boy told Draco he was sorry. Draco, not hiding his annoyance, kept telling him it didn't matter.

* * *

Apparently, Draco's disappearance caused some delay, or he had guessed wrong. No one was waiting for them when Draco opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron. The boy was surprised that no one seemed to notice them going in. His surprise continued when he was told muggles couldn't see the pub.

As Draco looked for his executioners, the boy stared at everything around him. The people in funny robes. The paintings that moved. A strange man in a purple hat stepping out of the fireplace. When he voiced his approval, a nearby portrait noticed his accent and began asking him questions about the colonies.

"OY, YOU," Draco called and the boy walked over to where his guide was standing next to an old bald man.

"This is Tom," Draco explained then told the man, "This is, um . . ."

"Jack." the boy supplied.

"Yeah, an' I'm Draco." Inwardly he was thinking, '_now, if anybody asks, I can honestly say I do know Jack_'.

"So, Tom," Draco asked. "Could you let them know, if I'm not back before they get here. Don't want them to worry, you know."

"Don't you worry," Tom assured him. "Best get you shopping done." He paused. "And I am sorry to hear about your loss."

Tom led the two boys to the back wall and struck it with his wand. He waited long enough to watch Jack's mouth fall open. After that, Draco began to play tour guide. He told Jack that Tom had promised to let his parents know what happened. They would walk through Diagon Alley until they received word to return to the pub. Truth be told, Draco wanted to avoid the initial yelling that would occur. Black would scour Diagon Alley for him but he was less likely to make a scene with people watching. Wizard people.

They paused at the Quality Quidditch Supplies where Jack learned that brooms were really used to fly. As they walked past the shops, Draco explained Quidditch, pointing out that he was the Seeker for his house. He couldn't promise, but he would ask Arthur Weasley to find out how they could go to a match in the States. The conversation stopped as Jack noticed Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

Draco shrugged his shoulders at the expectant look. He didn't have the right kind of money. He suggested they go when he noticed something he should have. Gringotts, the wizarding bank. Suddenly, getting ice cream sounded like a good idea. Draco grabbed Jack's arm and told him they'd have to see the goblins first.

Jack stared at everything. The goblins. The stacks of gold. The wizards and witches walking around looking important. And his eyes popped when Draco pulled out a pile of pound notes. Draco said that of course he had money. He had very rich relatives. But he had to spend the summer as a muggle. This was the money he had left over. He handed over his recently acquired money and asked for asked Fifteen Galleons, payed the amount in pounds plus the transfer fee. The remaining notes went into his trouser pocket while he started to fill his coat pocket with Galleons.

The goblin sneered. He then pointed out that they sold money pouches as well. Draco decided to buy one. He payed in pounds. And the goblin caused both boys to gasp as he put all of the gold coins in the pouch and then placed it in the palm of Draco's hand. Trying to act casual, he slipped the pouch into his jacket pocket and suggested to Jack that they get going.

"It all fits into that small bag?" Jack asked. He was amazed when Draco told him it was a common thing. Wizarding houses where like that as well. Sirius Black's house is hidden between two other buildings. "It expands, magically, when you come up on it but no one else ever notices."

Draco had an honest smile. It was rare he ever had a chance to show off. They returned to Fortescue's so that he could now show his largesse as well. He may rank as the most disliked schoolboy in Britain, but there was going to be at least one boy who would think him the greatest wizard in the world.

They continued their walk, avoiding Knockturn Alley. All the while Jack asked questions between mouthfuls of a hot fudge sundae. About things he was seeing. About the school of magic. What it was like growing up as a wizard. Out of the blue he asked Draco what his friends were like.

He reminded Draco of why he would want to return to Hogwarts. Justin and Hermione. Fred and George. Hagrid. Uncle Severus. Draco gave Jack a brave smile.

"They're like family. I can't stand them when they're around and I miss them when they're gone."

"Got a best friend? Mine's also named Jack."

"Ain't never met any other Draco. You're the firs' Jack I ever met. Best frien'?" He smiled at Jack. "The one I'm wit'. You want the job? It's only for one night, though."

As Jack laughed at the idea, Draco spotted the shop he wanted to go to. They finished their sundaes and dropped them in the nearest bin. It flashed a green sign at them which said, "Thank you for keeping Diagon Alley clean". Then Draco led his young charge into Ollivander's wand shop.

The old man with steely grey eyes appeared from a dark alcove. "You are a late visitor, Mister Malfoy. And you bring a strange young man from across the pond."

"How . . ." Jack began to ask.

"And one who is too young to purchase a wand."

"Yeah," Draco acknowledged, "but I need a spare. Everyone keeps taking my old one away, then forgetting to give it back." He smiled as he explained. He wouldn't always need a second wand. Only until he could get his back from where it had been forgotten. But he did need a wand. Any wand. On the other hand, it would only be a couple years before young Jack was old enough. It would be nice to have a wand waiting for him.

"And it would be best if he had one of mine," Ollivander said in conclusion.

Draco had the distinct impression that Ollivander did not trust him. He felt the slightest touch on his mental shield. But the man asked Jack which was his wand hand. Specifically, he asked, "Master Andrews, show me your wand hand, please."

Jack raised his right hand in surprise. "How . . ."

Draco finished the question. "'ow'd 'e know your name? I'm guessin' magic?"

Ollivander was back with a box. He opened it and pulled out a wand, pronouncing it to be Ash and Unicorn Hair, good for charms. Jack flicked it in the same manner he had with Draco's wand, happy when the sparks came out. Draco stopped him and showed him how to properly wave it. Jack tried again and the sparks came out as before, only a little brighter.

With a sigh, the wand seller told him to put the wand on the chair. He went back and pulled out another box. Maple and Dragon Heartstring. The sparks came again. They were larger and more colorful than with the last wand. Jack said it was almost like the first time. Ollivander smiled and said he had tried Draco's wand. He had the boy put the wand down as he went back into the shelves for another box. He came back with two.

"This first is close to Mister Malfoy's's wand. Holly. But you seem partial to Dragons," he smiled at Draco, "so it has a heartstring as opposed to a phoenix feather."

Jack smiled as he took the wand. He waved it and was pleased to see actual stars instead of sparks. Ollivander handed him the other wand as he took the one from his hand. It was the same wand except it was a half inch shorter. Jack shrugged his shoulders. Even Draco didn't understand what difference the length would make. And Jack waved the wand.

The red and blue stars came out again, but even Draco could tell the colors were more distinct. Also, they were leaving trails as they flew out of the wand. A minute later, the stars had all faded. Jack was holding the wand and simply staring at it. Ollivander was putting the other wands back into their boxes. He smiled at Draco.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mister Malfoy. That will be Seven Galleons and eight Sickles."

Draco pulled Eight Galleons out of the pouch. On a whim he handed them to Jack. "You found the wand for me, you pay for it. And you can keep the change."

Jack paid the money and pocketed the change. Handing the wand to Draco, he followed him out of the shop with a worshipful look on his face. As they walked back the way they came, Jack's first question was if the wand was really going to be his. Draco told him it was his, if he could find a place to hide it. Magic was supposed to be secret from muggles, non-magical people. Otherwise, he'd have to keep it in his luggage until he went home. At that last line, Jack's face went from nervous excitement to plain and simple joy. He would really be getting the wand.

"Thanks, Draco. Thanks for everything."

Draco smiled. In the waning light, he saw there was no one near them. "Jack, I need a favour. In exchange for the wand."

"Sure. Anything,"

"When you go back to the Leaky Cauldron, tell them I bought you an ice cream, then I left you."

"But . . ."

"They want me to go back. But I can't." He couldn't explain. "Jus' can't."

"Okay."

"I mean it. You're a nice kid, but . . . you have to promise." Draco's tone became forceful. "You tell them I lost you and you get the wand. Do we have a deal?"

He held out his hand, his look telling Jack to take it. Jack laughed nervously and grabbed Draco's hand.

"Seize the Cups," came the garbled voice.

"Whot?" Draco looked at the boy standing before him. Jack was almost like a statue.

"_You take one cup, one cup takes you. / One for fire and one to rue. / One begets a mother's flame. / One revives a wizard's name. / Fortune demands that you choose true._"

Jack blinked a couple of times. "It's a deal."

"Bugger tha'. I'm taking you back even if I have to go to the States to do it."

"But the wand," Jack said, confused and fearful he would lose his new toy.

"It's still yours."

Draco saw the bookstore up ahead was still open but not for long. The day was almost gone. He suggested they stop and get a book of beginner spells. Then he asked Jack if he liked his adventure.

Jack nodded his head. "You're still giving me the wand?"

"Yeah, already said." He pulled the wand out and, careful that no one saw him, slide it inside the sleeve of Jack's shirt. The wand holder it was attached to automatically wrapped itself around Jack's arm. It was safely hidden. "An' you got secrets to keep, whot wit' bein' me best mate. The wand gives you somethin' to lie about so you don't have to tell them other secrets."

"It's a bribe."

"Naw. Book's the bribe. Wand ain't no good if you don't know whot to do wit' it."

A few minutes later, Jack had under his arms a copy of Basic Transfiguration, Magical Theory for Beginners, The Standard Book of Spells (Book I) and Fantastic Creatures & Where to Find Them. They were all school books, but Jack didn't care. They were magical schoolbooks. He thanked Draco profusely then stopped as he looked ahead. "DAD." He ran forward as Draco saw that Sirius Black was with the Yank tourist.

Draco didn't hesitate. He turned around and walked the other way. He heard Black call after him that he had a room at the inn, but pretended he didn't hear. Seeing the man brought all his anger back.

* * *

As he passed Knockturn Alley, a dark figure stepped out of the shadows a short way in front of them, forcing the boy to slow from his brisk walk. Draco's first thought was 'what now?'

"You wouldn't happen to be lost. Would you?"

"Naw," Draco said casually. "Dad won't let me play in traffic, and I like danger."

The man took a step closer. "You looked familiar, Mister Malfoy." The man stepped up to him. "Permit me to take the risk of introducing myself. The name is Travers. Just so you know, the Minister will pay a lot to hear that name."

Draco gave a genuine smile. "Too bad." He switched to his fancy voice. "The Minister and I are not on speaking terms." He looked at Travers. "If we were, I wouldn't be here."

"It's good to find the Malfoys still know their proper place. But I need a small favour. A message. You do know Rodolphus Lestrange?"

"He is my Godfather."

"Let him know you met me. And where."

Draco took his best guess as to why the man was here. "You were watching me."

Travers gave Draco a look of pride as he sent him on his way.

Draco continued walking for a bit. He counted his money and found he had enough left in British currency to take the bus. He had two Galleons and some change in Wizard money, but one of those Galleons he could not spend. It was really an emergency portkey to Saint Mungo's Hospital. He carried it just in case. Having no other choice, he turned around. He was going to the Leaky Cauldron. At least he had a place to sleep and enough to buy at least one meal.

By the time he reached the pub, Draco had decided. He would go back to school. He had no better choice. He even knew what to say when the inevitable conversation occurred. He could at least have some fun by lying to people. At least one person.

* * *

Black waited for a minute, to make sure Draco wasn't going to run from the common room. He then walked toward his young charge. "You BOUGHT those books?"

"Mac lied about payin' me," Draco said, pointedly "Jack kep' askin' 'bout magic an' school an' . . . " Draco dramatically rubbed an eye as he turned his head downward. "I want to go back. Li'l Bastard made me miss the place."

"It's where your friends are," Sirius said in a (excuse the pun) serious tone. "At least those you admit to having." Sirius Black put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "It's gone Ten, already. I'll show you to your room."

"Did you buy him a wand?" Sirius asked, warily, as they walked up the stairs.

"Thought of it. Din't have enough after buyin' ice cream."

Yes, Draco thought, he did enjoy lying to people.


	6. Return to Hogwarts

A/N: Here is a hearty farewell to 2009. Never have I been more happy to see a year end. In the course of the year, several things happened. I strained my back. (I was out of work for two weeks) I sprained my ankle. (I was out of work for three weeks.) A lady I was helping dropped a table on my foot. (Only missed one week of work.) I won't talk about the miscellaneous ailments except for one instance. To celebrate the end of the year, I came down with the flu on my first day of holiday. I ended up starting the new year by missing the first two days of work.

2010 has to be better because it can''t get any worse.

On the other hand, I now have a chance to look at my e-mails for the past two weeks. That should keep me busy. As for my health, I am tempted to quote the ogre from Time Bandits. "I can cough. I can really cough."

Chapter Six: Return to Hogwarts

Draco was up early. The truth was that he could not sleep. For someone who never dreamed, he seemed to suddenly be wide awake after only an hour of sleep. When this happened the third time, Draco gave up. It was only four in the morning and he was already dressed, sitting in the common room of the Leaky Cauldron, drinking a strong cup of tea. Since he was awake, he should try to stay awake.

Two figures shadowed the staircase. One was Jack, the other his sister, the one he had called Abby. It seemed he wasn't the only one to spend the night.

Abby had on a pink nightgown and matching robe. Jack had on pajamas that could only have been purchased by parents. They were green and covered with American footballs and helmets. They were also short enough that his wrists and ankles shown easily.

Draco waved them over, then signaled the concierge (too early for a bartender) for two more cups and a pot. As they sat down, Draco told them to order something if they were hungry. Jack was looking at the table while Abby was looking at a pair of green eyes. They said nothing until the tea was served. Jack ordered some biscuits with jam, and watched as the lady left. The girl was still watching Draco.

"Whot?"

"Can I get a wand, too?"

"No, you're too young."

"But . . ."

"Jack is almost old enough but he's still underage." When Abby tried to protest, he shushed her and learned toward her to whisper. She stood up from her chair and sat directly next to him.

Draco used his fancy voice so she would better understand his whispering. "If they find out that Jack has a wand, they'll take it away from him. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded. She was frowning. Draco gave her his best smile.

"Now, I would be willing to wager a pound or two that Jack would be more than happy to let you try using his wand IF you helped him keep his secret."

The girl smiled. "How often."

Draco kept from laughing. "Not very often, only when it's safe, and only if he's sure of himself when he shows you something. Otherwise, It would be like your Dad giving you the car keys and letting you drive. It might be fun, but wouldn't it be better if you knew what you were doing, first."

The girl did something completely natural for someone her age. She gave him a beaming smile while frowning.

Jack was looking at Draco, now. His face held gratitude that his sister would not ruin everything. Then his look became one of surprise as the concierge set down a plate of cookies, some two dozen double stacked butter cookies with assorted jam fillings.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"I ordered biscuits."

"Yes?" The woman gave him an annoyed look. "Do you want me to send them back?"

"NO." It was the girl who shouted. "Sorry. Could we have milk?"

The woman gave her an annoyed look and pulled out her wand. The tea cups disappeared to be replaced by two glasses of cold milk. She asked if they wanted anything else, then left.

"These," Draco explained as he picked up one of the cookies, "are biscuits. My guess is you call them something else where you come from." He ate the biscuit and sat back to finish his tea. The two children were still staring at the glasses of milk.

Not that they got away with it. They told their father they shared a plate of biscuits for breakfast. He nodded approvingly and ordered his own breakfast. An omelet with biscuits and gravy.

The woman called him a bloody stupid Yank. She delivered the order with a bowl of gravy on the side.

* * *

"What happened yesterday was not a common event." Dad was more in control of himself than he was the night before. His next question was a surprise. More so because of the honest interest behind it. "I was curious. Why didn't you want to return to a school of magic?"

Draco paused as he debated on answering. In the end, he decided the man deserved an answer after having his vacation disrupted. Another reason was that it would be better if he left them with a good opinion of himself.

"I wasn't going back to school. Until Jack kept asking me questions. You should have seen how relieved Uncle Sirius was when I told him last night that I would." He paused just long enough. He spoke in a low tone. "Mum died. When I met you, I was running away from her funeral. I didn't know where to go. Until I was reminded that I had a place to go, that I still had family that cared for me."

Dad nodded and even looked regretful. Mum was already on her feet by the time Draco stood up and she gave him a hug. Draco thanked her and assured her that he would be fine. Uncle Severus would make sure of that. He taught at the school.

Mum gave him a goodbye hug and wished him good luck,

Draco paused as he asked an impulse question. "Your Dad's name ain't Trelawney, is it?"

Mum laughed as she half-whispered that was her grandmother's maiden name. Draco could only nod his head.

* * *

With great relief Draco left the family and walked back to his room to pick up his belongings, a backpack and a guitar. There were people waiting for him.

Janice immediately pulled him into a hug. This time Draco didn't resist. She was telling him she knew it hurt. He told her it hurt more than it should. They heard the engines. Nigel decided to call the home. He showed Draco where she had once written down the number. Janice hugged him again, with fresh tears for being reminded about that.

Mick grabbed him next in the shortest hug possible. For Mick, that was a major show of emotion. His voice was steady as he told Draco he would be fine.

"I know, Mick, an' Sirius tol' me he was helpin' find whoever did it."

Sirius Black cleared his throat. "There is one more thing, Draco. When I talked to Andrew Givens last night, he told me he had a busy day. It seems there was a rash of pickpocketing on the underground, over twenty cases were reported. One was a diplomat"

"Sounds like a gang," Draco said, knowing that Sirius was accusing him. "Even I'm not that good."

"For my sake, empty your pockets. I already went through your belongings."

Draco snarled and emptied everything he had. Two pounds and change. The money pouch which held a grand total of two Galleons and three Sickles. His wand, which Black had added to the pile. A guitar pick. Two packets of prints. He gave one of the packets to Sirius Black, asking him to give it to Givens next time they met. Then he asked if Sirius wanted to frisk him.

Sirius sneered at him as he took the packet. "Admit it. You liked being accused just to prove me wrong."

As they went to leave, Mick suggested they check the film records for a group, at least three, probably teenagers. He added that the police were probably doing that already.

Draco put most everything back into his pockets. The wizarding money he took but asked Mick to take the British currency. He didn't need it anymore and Mick could pay him back when he came by for the holiday. Mick laughed and promised to hold it for him.

And they left. Luck was on his side as the tourists had either left or gone to their rooms by the time he came down the stairs to the common area. Sirius walked them out to Charring Cross Road. Janice hugged Draco once more before she and Mick left to go back home.

"It's just you an' me then," Draco said.

Sirius couldn't help but grin. "Not for long. Grab my hand." A second later, they apparated away.

* * *

It was with no small surprise that Draco found himself in Sirius Black's living room. Admittedly, it looked a lot cleaner than it ever had before. It also had James Potter and Frank Longbottom sitting on the couch. They were both looking at him and smiling. He frowned.

Potter asked his partner if he thought they should help the boy. Perhaps they should convince Dumbledore that he should follow his first impulse and refuse to let the boy back into school.

Draco gave them a bored stare. Inside he was frightened. Would Dumbledore throw him out of school? After all, he was only late. He had a good excuse for running away. And he thought that emotional distress was an excellent excuse. Even though he was only angry. Also, he wasn't planning on going far. To be honest, he hadn't made any plans that far ahead.

Myriad thoughts were swirling through Draco's head. One of them was to question if he was really here. Another was to question why he was here. None of these men liked him. If only because they hated his father. The thought that finally settled in his head was that they wanted something from him. What they said was probably a lie. They only wanted to scare him.

"Are you really that good a thief?" Potter asked.

"Whot?"

"Sirius told us you robbed . . . twenty? . . . people."

Longbottom was smiling. The way the police do when they want you to confess and save them the paperwork. "I was curious as well. Because," he smiled at James as his voice became a whisper, "we could work out an arrangement. If things work out, this entire matter can disappear."

Sirius smiled consolingly at his friends. He informed them that Draco had turned out to be clean. His money actually came from an honest source.

Draco, however, was interested. They had some kind of scheme. If he could get something out of this, it made the future a lot brighter. He returned Longbottom's smile.

"You want something from me. Could you skip the threats and just tell me?"

"Gringott's bank," Potter told him with a smirk. "Shall we continue?" At Draco's nod, he added, "The idea is to break in, steal something and get out in one piece. Still interested?"

It all was a tin bath as far as Draco was concerned. His skills were limited to pickpocketing and petty larceny. He was also good at keeping an eye out. Bank robbery, much less robbing a goblin bank, was beyond his abilities. Still, he was curious

"Sure. Can't give a guarantee, though. I need to ask a few questions."

Draco declined the offer for a chair. Instead he demanded to know what was really going on. James Potter had the bigger smile so he was the one to be glared at. Potter's smile grew a tad larger as he reached inside his robes and pulled out a small picture. It was a large woman holding an old-fashioned cup, like a chalice. She was holding it up and turning it around so that anyone looking could see every part of it.

"Nice." Draco was not impressed. Not on the outside. Inside, he was speechless, dumbfounded, and several other words of surprise. Not long ago, Jack had told him to "seize the cups". And now he was looking at one.

"It's the cup of Helga Hufflepuff," Longbottom explained, arching an eyebrow when Draco startled. "It belonged to one of the original founders of Hogwarts. This lady was the last legitimate owner. Years before you were even born, she was murdered and the cup stolen."

Draco nodded, carefully. It was obvious what happened. They discovered that the cup was in someone's vault beneath Gringott's bank. "Where?"

"In Gringo . . ."

"You already said. Where?"

Frank Longbottom was trying to hold his smile in place. "The Lestrange vault."

Potter had no problem holding his smile. He asked casually if Draco were curious how they found out. Not that one needed to be a genius at this point to figure it out. Casper Lestrange was best mates with William Potter. And Casper was known to have a big mouth.

"Does he even know he told you?"

Potter couldn't hold his smile. He started laughing as he shook his head. Casper had no idea.

"What's the trick to getting in?" Draco asked.

"No trick," Potter explained as he controlled his laughter. "It's possible, if you know exactly where you're going, to apparate inside. The trick is getting out. Only one person has done that so far and we know he had inside help."

Draco's next question was what did he need to watch out for. He was told of various ensnaring spells, poison arrows, wards to cancel magical illusions and protective spells, acid pools and other sundry traps. In the deepest levels, there was even a dragon.

That interested Draco. He had a plan at once on how to deal with a dragon. His patronus. It was also a dragon. All he had to do was call it up and it should convince the dragon that it, and he, were friendly or, at the least, harmless. As for the rest, Draco pondered all that he heard. He half believed the two men as to what they were telling him but it was a challenge. He couldn't resist a challenge. This could also be a trick. A convenient way to get rid off an annoying pest. He hadn't decided, but felt it best to play along. And deep inside of him he knew it was important he get this cup. Jack had told him to do it. He asked his next question.

"Do you want everyone to know it's been stolen?"

"Bloody Hell. NO." Frank Longbottom was surprised. Draco didn't know why but would file it away for later. Longbottom relaxed and added, "First, if this is successful, Gringotts would know we have a way to infiltrate their vault. We might want to do it again." This earned a grin from Draco. It was the line he used when he needed to lie about something. "Second, the Lestrange family has friends of an unsavory nature, as you well know. We would like to keep them in the dark for the same reason."

"Third," Draco said, "I'll need a duplicate of the cup. That way, they won't notice on their next trip that something's missing."

Sirius Black laughed. "Do you honestly believe we want you to do it? All we want is for you to use that scheming mind of yours to come up with some ideas." He grinned when Draco glared at him. "This IS you area of expertise?"

It was Potter who responded. "If it comes to that, we could consider having him along. If he IS as clever as you think, Sirius." He rummaged around the room, found an old book in one of the cabinets. Asking permission first, he placed it on the nearest table and waved his wand. The book was now a cup. The cup in the photograph. He handed the cup to Draco.

_Evidence_ was Draco's first thought. _If anything happens, I can now implicate all three of them._

Smiling, he took the cup from the man's hand. And he asked the question he knew they were waiting for. Why were they asking him, a fourteen year old boy. Did they honestly expect him to know how to rob a bank simply because he had an excellent reputation as a pickpocket.

"No," Potter said in an even tone. "But, to put it bluntly, you are a thief. You are a very good thief. And even now you're thinking about how you would do it. The truth is this. We want that cup. More correctly, we want to get that cup away from the people who have it. Short of a direct attack, we don't know of any way to get it. And so, we decided to go to a specialist and ask his advice."

"And he sent you to me? Who is this nutter?"

"You're the specialist."

"Ain't never robbed no bank."

Frank Longbottom nodded. "Neville was right. His accent changes when he gets emotional."

"Ain't emotional. We're talkin' business. This is me business voice. Whot's innit for me?"

"As for you," Potter told him. "you'll have two more voices of support to the Minister. If anything proves useful, I'll even add Sirius' to the tally."

"An' all this cloak an' dagger? Draggin' me 'ere an' throwin' this at me? Jus' to get me interested?"

"It worked," Potter replied. "And if you do come up with anything, let Neville know you need to talk to one of us."

"Not Harry?" Draco had to smile.

Potter smiled back. "No one will wonder why you would talk to a teammate. If you went to Harry, people would talk about that."

Draco nodded at the logic. And it was intriguing. He told them he would think about it. He slid the cup into his backpack.

* * *

Sirius Black brought them within sight of the entrance to Hogwarts. He then reached into his pocket and handed Draco a parchment. His class schedule. All of the school supplies would be in the trunk by his bed. Then Sirius offered to walk with Draco, to help carry his belongings.

"Why?" There was a hint of distrust in Draco's voice. The same way there is a hint of rain during a thunderstorm.

"I'm trying to be nice."

"Well, thank you. I'll be fine."

"Fancy voice?"

"I'm starting early."

Sirius nodded. He patted one of his pockets. "I'm supposed to meet with Givens this afternoon. I'll see that he gets the pictures. And I was curious. A ball is a walk. West Ham?"

Draco couldn't help but smile. "West Ham Reserves. Nerves."

"You made that up."

"Naw. Someone else did."

For some reason, Draco was in a good mood as he began the long walk to the school. His first class of the day had already started. It was History of Magic. If he made no effort to go to that class then he was free until lunch. It sounded like a good plan.

But he was back at school. And there was one person he wanted to talk to.

"Kreacher?" he called out, hoping the house elf would hear him.

* * *

Hermione walked into the common room and immediately ran to Draco, giving him a hug. Draco mentally noted it was his sixth hug that day. A new record.

It seemed that everyone was told the reason he was late. Several students offered their condolences including, to Draco's surprise, Harry Potter. He even responded with a 'thanks, mate'. That's how surprised he was.

Fred and George cornered him, asking how he was.

Draco wanted to tell them. When Moody died, he thought the world ended. When Miss Carmichael died, he knew it did. He wanted to ask them how they'd feel if their mum died. But the words didn't come out. He put on a fake smile and said he was fine. George and Fred nodded to each other. Then Fred turned to Draco.

"Met her once, you know."

"She was easy to like" Hermione said as they walked away. She hugged Draco again and went to put her books away. She turned back as she reached the stairs. "I made copies of my notes, so you don't have to worry about missing any classes."

"Great." Draco said it with a cheerfulness he felt. Hermione would think she was being nice. He honestly felt that she would tutor him on what he missed so he didn't have to add lost lessons to his list of things to be miserable about. And he was right. She went over the lessons all the way until lunch. And she was right. It did make him feel better, to be back at school and doing something.

"Bummer," Ron Weasley whispered to him when they were alone. "You get back to school late and she spends two hours lecturing you."

Draco laughed. "You know. She's the only person in this school who thinks she's smarter than me, and has the grades to prove it."

The first class in the afternoon was Potions. Professor Snape had his usual scowl in place but everyone could see a smile form briefly as his favorite student entered. He then returned to his brusque manner. Then it was into the lesson. They were to make a wit-sharpening potion.

Snape eyed Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas as he pointed out that while it would be useful for some of them, for others it was clearly a necessity.

As Draco copied the list of ingredients, the Professor walked around the room, pausing briefly to correct someone's spelling or criticize their handwriting. When he reached the table where Draco and Hermione were, he suggested tea after class, unless the two of them had other plans. Hermione managed a shy smile, looking to Draco first before she said yes.

As Snape walked away, Hermione whispered, "A special lesson already."

"But . . . what if it's only to have tea." Draco gave his best frown. For that remark, she gave him the task of crushing the scarab beetles.

* * *

As Severus Snape poured three cups of tea, he asked if he needed to do more then to give his condolences. When Draco assured him that returning to school was the best medicine, Severus smiled. "Then you won't mind having scones as well." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a tin, making it a point to offer one first to Hermione. She took a scone with a cautious thank you. It became obvious that this get together had a specific purpose.

First, there was a package that Draco had to open. A belated birthday present. He undid the paper and opened the box. It was a book. Dangerous Creatures: Recognition and Defense. Draco leafed through it, noting that it was 400 pages of text, pictures and diagrams. It was not what he would consider as light reading

"Shall we get down to business?" Professor Snape asked. "Draco, you do know that you have annoyed the Minister simply by continuing to exist. Had you died last year, you would have made him very happy."

"Yeah. I heard he cancelled his order for everyone to be nice to me."

"More than that. He tried to ban any outside activities for you for this upcoming year. To teach you respect. An impossible task, of course. But Albus Dumbledore worked out a compromise based on the fact that you are often accompanied on your sojourns. You may have all the private lessons you want, as long as they are not private." He turned to Hermione. "That is why you are here, Miss Granger, and why you will always be welcome in my office. You are the proof that I am not teaching the Dark Arts to our future Dark Lord."

Hermione returned his smile. "You mean I HAVE TO join in on all the special lessons?"

The Professor laughed at her enthusiasm. "Even if it means that Draco will not be the best student in his year."

Surprised and pleased by his friendliness, Hermione promised she would do her best to make sure he was.

They had an amiable conversation. When Uncle Severus asked, Draco admitted that he did have prior knowledge of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Draco added that he found out by running into the organizers as they were discussing it. He also passed along something he had discovered near the end of last term. That both Ginny Weasley and Terrence Hicks were victims of the Imperious Curse. He was assured by the Professor that his comments to Arthur Weasley were now common knowledge amongst the senior staff. The only thing they had discovered to date was that whoever performed the curses was someone from the outside. At present, the list of possibilities was narrowed down to some four dozen names.

"I'm going to enter, and win," Draco bragged.

Hermione rolled her eyes while Snape snorted. The professor added his own comment. "The Minister has already ASKED Professor Dumbledore to find a reason to keep you from entering. Something that sounds reasonable, if possible."

"That's terrible," Hermione said.

"From what I have heard, Miss Granger, the rules Albus had already decided on will require a certain level of training and skill, regardless of the Minister's request. Draco will not be eligible. Nor will you."

"They have to be at least O.W.L. levels," she asked, and frowned when she receive a yes. Not that she had any intention of entering. But she would have liked the opportunity.

* * *

At dinner, Hermione pointed out the two new teachers for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Draco recognized both of them. The first man, whom Hermione said was Remus Lupin, was the fourth man in the photograph on Sirius Black's mantle. Another old friend of his. Draco's smile faded when he was told that Lupin had the fourth thru seventh years. He consoled himself that at least Sirius Black was running out of friends. Next year would be better. Hermione noticed his frown but smiled.

Hermione told Draco he should be happy not to have the Minister's son as a teacher instead. At least Lupin would treat him fairly. She frowned slightly when Draco told her how he recognized him.

Draco looked over at the DADA professor for the junior classes, Bartemius Crouch, Jr. He hid his surprise as he remembered where he saw the man. Standing with Ludo Bagman and the others at the end of the school year, when Draco asked to talk with Arthur Weasley.

After the dinner, they returned to the common room. Justin Finch-Fletchley was with them. He had been told by Fred and George to come. He simply smiled at Draco's confused look.

It was a small group that gathered, only a dozen or so. The Weasleys, Hermione and Justin, Dean Thomas, the Quidditch team. And three dozen bottles of butterbeer. Fred and George approached Draco who was flanked by Hermione and Justin.

"Someone passed away recently. Someone we knew," Fred told him.

"It's only fitting," George continued, "that we do something to acknowledge her passing."

As Draco was handed a butterbeer, Hermione whispered that it was a wake. Justin put his hand on Draco's shoulder and said they all missed her.

"An' them?" Draco asked, nodding his head at the Quidditch team.

He wasn't as quiet as he thought. Everyone in the common room heard him. Several frowned. Angelina Johnson smiled.

"Sympathetic friends who are too curious for our own good." She was smiling. A warm smile. "You lost someone who loved you. She must have been a wonderful person."

It wasn't a rehearsed line. It was honest and from the heart. Draco bit back a sudden urge to cry.

"Her name was Gail Carmichael. Everyone always called her Miss Carmichael." He paused. "The last one who asked, I tol' 'er she was me mum."

When he was asked, Draco tried to remember the good things. The first thing he did was laugh. There were no good things. They were in one of the worst parts of London. Most of the children there were the hard to place ones. But Miss Carmichael was good. She kept a ready list of those who wanted to foster so that they could get a quicker approval for adoption. She rarely managed to place a child in less than a week. While he was there, except for Janice, no one else had been around for more than a month.

Finally, he said his first sentence. "She taught me how to laugh."

Hermione cringed and Justin turned his head. They were the only two who knew what Draco's life had been like when he was with the Dursleys. And their reactions let the others know that what happened before should not be asked about.

"Remember any of the jokes?" Fred asked.

Draco drank from his bottle as he thought of what to say. He decided to gild a few memories to make it sound better than it was. He described his first Christmas at the home. How he could have all he could eat. He received his first Christmas present although he couldn't remember what it was. How he found out that she liked asparagus, stealing it became finding a bag of food someone forgot.

Hermione mentioned talking to Miss Carmichael briefly at Draco's birthday party. Her first question was how Draco was really doing at school. Every question was about Draco. Even though he was no longer in her care, she still cared about him.

George made a comment that he saw her at the party. Whenever she looked over at them, her eyes always went to Draco.

That made Draco pause. He mentioned how Janice has said they were a family, a brother and a sister, because they decided they were. Miss Carmichael was their mother. Because they decided she was. And she had already decided they were her children.


	7. After the Cup

Chapter 7: After the Cup

By the end of his first week, Draco had very little free time. Friday afternoons were committed to tea at Hagrid's. Tuesdays and Thursday were agreed to be private lessons with Professor Snape. Draco was curious how they would be now that Hermione was going to be a regular visitor. And Sunday morning was the time he visited Walburga Black's portrait.

Draco already set aside time to practice his guitar. He decided he needed at least two hours, three times a week. More if he felt like it and time permitted. And he had a curious problem to solve.

It was Saturday. Hermione and Justin had found Draco at his private place overlooking the lake. The same place the Professor Snape had found him during his first year. They had less trouble as they could hear him practicing as they came close. Draco asked his question.

"'mione, what do you know about Gringotts?"

"Thinking of going back to a life of crime?"

"Naw. It's a logic problem. Sirius Black asked me how I'd do it. I thought I'd give him an answer."

"You only want to annoy him," Justin pointed out.

Draco admitted his mate was correct, but he also wanted to annoy Black with an answer that was thought out. He admitted what he did know. Apparently anyone could apparate into Gringotts but they could not apparate out. Hermione told him that was probably true but any wizard or witch would have to know where. She also told him what she had heard. Numerous traps, wards and possibly a dragon, although that might not be true.

Justin told them it was. Near end of term last year, Casper Lestrange (nee Black) was bragging how his family vault was deeper than the Potter vault. While both vaults were past the waterfall, the Lestrange vault was right next to the dragon.

Justin explained that the waterfall was a ward that removed any enchantments and eliminated any active spells. Casper had even told them that the goblins could control the dragon so that it did not harm legitimate customers. It was chained so it couldn't wander around. And when the goblins rang their clangers it knew to stay back or else. Casper also bragged about some of the heirlooms that his parents had stored in the vault.

Draco smiled. Justin had confirmed how James Potter and his friends knew about Helga Hufflepuff's cup. He also confirmed exactly how big a mouth Casper did have.

The conversation shifted to others Draco could talk to. Hagrid would know what kind of traps there were. They all agreed he would want to know just for the fun of it. The junior DADA professor was suggested. He was supposed to have been with the Goblin Liaison Office at one time. Then the conversation drifted to other things, ending with Justin asking if he could come with them to visit Professor Snape.

As the day waned, Draco played for them the new song he was trying to learn. He only made three mistakes but he was playing it about half the normal speed as he tried to remember the notes.

Justin agreed that practicing as far away from the school as possible was a very good idea.

* * *

Care of Magical Creatures was the same as the year before. Professor Lestrange sat off to one side and watched as Rubeus Hagrid taught the class. Professor Lestrange must have had some influence on the giant because the few classes they've had so far did not include anything exotic or dangerous. There were rumours that Hagrid had found some kind of dangerous pet but that Rodolphus Lestrange had put his foot down. The man may have a sadistic streak, and would probably have enjoyed it, but if too many students ended up in the infirmary everyone knew who would be held responsible.

Today's lesson was about the dangerous creatures in the lake. A large tank of water sitting on a tree trunk contained several small, ugly looking horned things with long fingers. Hagrid explained they were Grindylows, a species of water demon. Lavender Brown said the Unicorns were nicer.

Next, they were shown an old piece of driftwood. Hagrid warned them to be careful. He then showed everyone why. With quick hands, he grabbed it in the middle. Even Draco stepped back at what happened next. A mouth appeared at one end and snapped helplessly at the hand holding it. Paws with sharp claws also appeared but they could not reach the elusive hand, either. As soon as Hagrid set it down, the creature scurried off in the direction of the forest.

"It's a Dugbog. They're mostly harmless," Hagrid explained to the disbelieving students. "They live on plants. And they love mandrake. This one'll probably head back to the nearest marsh."

"Hagrid," Hermione asked, "won't you need that, um, animal for your next class."

"You were the last class. All I need to do now is throw them Grindylows back in the lake."

To Draco's sorrow, Hagrid did not actually throw the creatures. He dismissed the class then picked up the large tank and carried it away.

"Draco." Professor Lestrange waved him over. Hermione came along out of curiosity.

"A private conversation, please," Lestrange told her, his eternal smile still in place.

"I'll tell you all about it later," Draco promised. Hermione gave him a smile and promised to wait out of earshot.

"Meeting someone tonight?" was Draco's first question.

The smile grew slightly larger. "Why, yes I am. How clever of you to figure that one out. I would like you to join us. We're meeting at Seven. I want you to arrive ten minutes later."

Draco frowned. "In the forest?"

Rodolphus barked a laugh. "I fear there will be no more meetings in the woods this year. Something else is going on. One of HIS men is in the castle now. I don't need to sneak out anymore." He waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Meet me later at my office." As Draco turned, he was called back. "And one more thing. Make up a good excuse for why you dropped by without an invitation."

"Yeah," Draco drawled, his confusion obvious. "This ain't because of whot I tol' you about Travers?"

Rodolphus smiled again. "Your accent is slipping."

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered as he turned away and walked toward Hermione.

As they walked back to the castle, she asked a telling question. "Is there another meeting tonight?"

Draco looked at her and smiled. He knew what lie to tell. More correctly, he knew what part of the truth to only tell. "Naw. Ain't no more meetin's. Him an' 'is brother don't get along anymore." As they continued walking, he asked how she found out. Hermione smiled. She didn't find out. She thought they might be getting together the same as with Professor Snape. She was trying to invite herself along. What was unsaid was that Draco would now have to explain why Professor Lestrange was secretly meeting with his brother, an escaped Prisoner from Azkaban. Draco would also have to explain how and why he knew about it.

"I'll need to let Dumbledore know I told you. And, Hermione," his voice became deadly serious, "you can't mention this to anyone, including me."

Draco smiled. He had bought himself some time, and given himself an excuse for sneaking off by himself after dinner.

* * *

Draco checked his pickle watch. When it showed ten minutes after Seven, he knocked on the door to Professor Lestrange's office. He waited until a hesitant "come in" was heard. Then he opened the door.

"Excuse me, Professor, I was wondering . . . Oh, sorry , din't know you had company."

Draco tried not to frown. He knew the man his godfather was talking to. Ludovic Bagman, the Head of Games and Sports. The last time they had met, the man had suggested giving Kreacher veritaserum. Either that or seizing him outright. And now he was being told with a gesture to enter the room and close the door.

"Ludo," Rodolphus Lestrange said cheerfully, "do you know my godson, Draco Malfoy?"

"We've met," Bagman said, sounding as cheerful as Draco felt.

"I do believe he is the solution to our mutual problem."

"Him? He has the most, um, unsavory reputation in the school."

"Exactly. And no one would suspect he had any help."

"And how do you suggest we get him to agree."

"Bribery? Draco would love to come into a large sum of money. And you were going to offer half to me."

Bagman paused. It was evident he was trying to think something through. Finally, a thin smile crossed his lips. "The question is: Can we trust him?"

"Considering the amount of money we're talking about, I would trust a jarvey to give me a compliment."

"Professor," Draco interrupted. He was trying to think of the right question to ask. "How much money are we talking about?"

Rodolphus gave Bagman a victorious smile. "One Thousand Galleons, plus half of the wager, which is a considerable sum in itself. Your share would be 2000."

"Expenses first," Bagman added, hastily. "I have a few debts to take care of."

Draco's forced smile was becoming real. " One Thousand, and . . ." he was looking at Bagman, "how much more?"

"At least another Thousand," Bagman said, hopefully.

Draco held out his hand. "I think we jus' became frien's."

As Bagman shook his hand, the man turned to Professor Lestrange. "And he doesn't even know what we want him to do."

Draco was given a seat and a cup of tea. Once he was settled in, his godfather proceeded to explain. Ludovic Bagman had a small problem. He was accepting wagers on the World Quidditch Cup Match and ended up with the worst possible results. He now owed three or four thousand Galleons to various people. The result was that he needed a "sure thing" that he could bet on.

As for Professor Lestrange, he was looking for a way to publicly embarrass the Minister for Magic without making it obvious that he was the one doing it. A casual conversation with an old acquaintance led to a business meeting of sorts. They had agreed that they both would benefit if they manipulated a very public contest. The Tri-Wizard Tournament. The major requirement was that the student they chose should not be eligible under the rules.

Their initial thoughts were to pick someone but not let them know. Potter was the first choice but they both agreed he was too much of a hothead. Longbottom was also considered, but he was, in the Professor's opinion, too decent. He might deliberately lose because he was not a legitimate contender.

"You planned this," Bagman said suddenly. He turned to Draco. "I dare you to tell me your appearance wasn't planned."

"Din't know anythin' about this," Draco said honestly. "I was coming by to ask Uncle Rodolphus about . . . something personal."

Bagman smirked. He didn't really care. All he wanted to do was win a large bet any way possible.

"You see, Ludo," Rodolphus was still smiling, "Draco has a reputation that won't die. Most of the students would expect him to do something like this. No one, that is no student, will be surprised when his name appears out of the Goblet of Fire. And the Minister, hopefully, will be furious. So furious that he will never think that Draco had any help."

Draco's look resulted in more explanations. The Goblet of Fire was a charmed cup. All potential contestants would put their names and their school on pieces of parchment and place them in the goblet. When the time came, the goblet would release one name for each school entered. Three schools. Three contestants. If a fourth school is written, that changed things. Four Schools. Four contestants. "Only if you agree, Draco."

"What school do I represent? If I'm doing this on my own, they'll expect me to know."

"Amazing boy," Bagman said with appreciation. "I would never have thought to share that bit of information. I like the way you think, Mister Malfoy."

Draco returned the smile. "And I like money, Mister Bagman. So, what school do I represent?"

"The Salem Witches Institute."

"A girl's school?"

"What's the matter, Draco," Rodolphus said with mock sympathy. "Don't you like girls?" He then laughed as Draco blushed.

"It's a flaw in the spell," Bagman bragged. "The cup knows when a fake school is listed. It also knows not to acknowledge any other schools. The marvelous thing about this is that the list of schools was last updated some 350 years ago. The Salem Witches Institute, which is a qualified school, was founded shortly after that. It was, somehow, missed when I drew up the new list of new schools to ignore."

Draco shook his head. "Don't sound right. Should have charmed it just for those three schools."

"The flaw," Bagman reminded him. "The charm was complicated enough. If they did it your way, they would have to cancel the spell on the old cup and start from scratch. This way, had they ever decided to add a school to the tournament, they only had to remove a name from the list."

"Or not put it on the list in the first place," Professor Lestrange added.

"Yeah." To Draco, the whole thing sounded wrong, but he wouldn't argue the point. He could get his name in by claiming he went to a different school. "And I just walk up and put my name in?"

"Probably not," Bagman said. "We'll have to see what Dumbledore does to keep unqualified students from entering."

Draco nodded. "I'm in. Already told people I was going to enter. Thanks for helping me."

The surprise on Bagman's face was sheer delight for Draco.

* * *

After a few more words, mostly about keeping things secret, Bagman excused himself so that Godfather and Godson could have their personal chat.

"And what is your 'personal' reason for coming here?"

"I let slip to Hermione about you and your brother meeting in the woods last year. I told her I'd have to let Dumbledore know I screwed up."

Rodolphus's smile wavered at the end of the first sentence but was back in full force by the end of the next sentence. "I can speak for Dumbledore. You should never have told her and the best thing she can do is help make sure you don't make the same mistake again. The problem is solved." A pause. "I take it there is something else?"

"Yeah," Draco said carefully. He was about to convince his godfather his was completely barmy. "I . . ." Now he couldn't think of how to ask his question. "Can I rob something from your vault in Gringott's."

Rodolphus Lestrange stared in surprise. "Anything in particular?"

It was Draco's turn. He was willing to bet that Uncle Rodolphus knew exactly what he was talking about. "Um."

After a hesitant start, Draco explained how he came to meet Sirius Black's friend, about how Casper had a big mouth, and how they wanted Draco to think of ways to steal the cup of Helga Hufflepuff. His godfather never lost his smile, even when he agreed about Casper.

"And you want to test your plan to see if it will work?"

"Yes. No. I don't want to make a plan in case it does work, because . . ."

While the smile never wavered, a strange look came on his godfather's face. "You actually have some feelings for a sadistic old bastard like me?"

What neither mentioned was the bond between them. Rodolphus Lestrange would do anything to protect his godson. Anything.

"You're my mentor," Draco drawled.

"Then you have my permission. But you must be sure of your plan. Anyone can tell you that getting inside Gringotts is easy. It is getting out that is the problem."

"I learned that when I was still in knickers. Never go in unless you know how to get out. Truth is, I don't even know how I'm going to get in."

* * *

Sunday morning. Standing before a portrait with a flower box in front of it.

"Honestly, Draco. Sometimes you are too much like Regulus. Whatever are you thinking of."

"Sorry, Walburga. It's just . . . I was thinking about my vault in Gringotts. I was wondering how I could get there without, you know, walking through the front door."

The portrait of Walburga Black smiled at him. "Sometimes I forget what a deprived childhood you had, Draco. Being forced to associate with muggles on a daily basis. (I know it has affected your choice of friends but I forgive you for that.) If you need to put something in your vault for storage, simply have Kreacher take it there for you. I never visited my vault in person unless I specifically wanted to take something out of it."

Draco couldn't help but be surprised. "Kreacher can get to my vault and out again?"

"It's called apparating, dear."

"But I was told you can't apparate out of Gringotts."

"And you can't apparate at all in Hogwarts." Walburga was smiling as Draco understood. "House elves are not limited by certain forms of magic."

"Brilliant," Draco answered. His complicated plan to rob a bank became a simple scheme. He took a deep breath and relaxed, nodding his head when Walburga asked to try playing her song again. Concentrating on his music, and not hitting the wrong notes too much, he made his third attempt to play the Anthem of the Appleby Archers.

"_Fly straight, fly straight, fly sure and true/ Make all Appleby proud of you . . ."_

* * *

Draco knew his plan would work. It was very simple. Kreacher knew where the Lestrange vault was. He had been sent there on several occasions at Bellatrix's orders. The house elf also warned Draco of the curse on the vault. Unless the correct charm was used, anything touched would multiply tenfold. And each piece, original and duplicates, would become flaming hot. Kreacher could cast the charm but only if he had permission.

Draco smiled. He assured Kreacher that he did have permission. There was still time before the evening meal. He suggested they go now. A smug Draco shoved a cup into the pocket of his robes and took Kreacher's hand. In ten minutes or less, he would be back at Hogwarts with the real cup in his hand. Kreacher took a curious step and both disappeared from the now empty dorm room.

"Master must stand still," Kreacher warned as they arrived in darkness. The elf then said something too softly for Draco to hear, but it must have worked. A soft glow filled the vault, enough to see by. And Draco noticed his hand almost touching a stack of coins. Had he even moved a muscle, there would have been dozens of Galleons, all hot enough to burn, filling up the chamber they were in.

"Is it safe to touch?"

"Only that which Master has permission to touch."

With a nod of his head, he looked up at the shelves. One of them had several cups and goblets on them. Including the cup he was looking for. Careful not to touch anything else, he walked over and gingerly picked up the cup. He paused only long enough to make sure nothing was going to happen. Satisfied it was safe, the cup switched places in his pocket with its duplicate. The duplicate was then sat on the shelf. Draco gave a satisfied smirk.

"Kreacher, take me back to Hogwarts now."

Silence. Then a soft turn. "Kreacher cannot take Master back to Hogwarts. Kreacher can only take Master out of the vault."

And Draco remembered. He had asked about getting into the vault and getting out of it. He did not ask about getting out of the bank. He would have to sneak out. And he would need a good story if he was caught.

His decision was made. Get out of the vault, first. Think of a good alibi on the way out of the bank.

"Then take me out of the vault."

"The dragon, Master," Kreacher said with concern. "It is outside the vault."

"That is not a problem. I already know what to do with the dragon. I did plan." Draco smiled and Kreacher relaxed. The last thing he wanted was for the elf to realize that Draco had no plan. Kreacher would panic and ruin everything. Worse than that, he would probably blame himself. That was one thing Draco did not want to deal with.

"And don't forget. Once I'm out of the vault, go back to Hogwarts. And DON'T tell anyone. I may not be back right away. Got friends in London."

"Master knows how to get out of Gringotts?"

"Getting out is not the problem," Draco lied "Only getting out of the vault. That's why I needed you."

Kreacher nodded, impressed by his master's calmness. He took Draco's hand, took that curious step, then said goodbye. Draco was alone. At least he was outside the vault.

A soft rumble behind him caused Draco to turn. In the dim light that seemed to fill the cavern lined with vaults, the dragon came into view. It was a huge black dragon. At least a dozen times bigger than Draco was.

And Draco was prepared. He waved his wand and said, as softly as possible, "Expecto Patronum."

A glowing white dragonette appeared and, as Draco had practiced, settled over him like a ghostly apparition. As though in a fog, he watched as the dragon focused on him. As he watched, the dragon watched him in return. It only watched. Which made Draco nervous. Which made Draco lose control over the spell. The patronus vanished as his concentration faltered. The dragon could now see him clearly. As a human being. There was no disguise, anymore.

Frozen in fear, Draco stood there as the dragon leaned forward to get a better look. It stopped only meters away and stared for a bit, then turned away with a low moan.

"Whot the?" he muttered. He remembered Norbert. The dark eyes that seemed to have fire in them. The eyes that were briefly in front of him had none of that. They appeared worn and tired. There was grungy stuff around the eyes, like someone sick would have.

A sound of metal. The dragon had moved a leg. The sound was the rattle of the chain that bound the leg to the floor of the pit it was in. It was an easy task to look at the other limbs. Chains were attached to them. And there was a metal collar. The dragon could move. Just not very far.

It was almost funny. The mighty dragon wasn't mighty at all. If anything, it acted like a dog that had been beaten for too long. It wouldn't stop Draco from leaving. And that meant that all he had to do was walk out. It would be a long walk but, if he was lucky in his guess, the traps wouldn't do anything if he left well enough alone.

He turned from the dragon and looked at the waterfall. He might get wet but that should be the worst part of it. All he had to do now was walk away.

All he had to do was walk away.

That was all he had to do.

"LET ME OUT."

The cry came from the vault next to him.

"LET ME OUT"

It was followed by someone banging on a wooden door.

"LET ME OUT."

Draco reached for the handle on the door and opened it. It was a cupboard. From the slant of the ceiling, it looked like it was under a staircase. There, kneeling on the floor with his back to Draco, was a small boy, perhaps four or five. Unkempt blond hair. Filthy clothes that did not fit. He was banging on a door.

"PLEASE. PLEASE. I'LL BE GOOD. I PROMISE."

The boy was leaning his head against the door, crying.

Draco didn't know why he did it, but he leaned into the cupboard. He put his hand on the door on the other side. He gently pushed the door open.

The boy straightened up. He cautiously called out, "Thank you."

The boy turned around. Draco recognized him. He couldn't help but recognize him. The boy was himself. The boy smiled.

"I let myself out. I never knew I could do that."

The boy changed. He grew a few years older and his hair turned black. He curled into a ball as flames grew around him. The door flew completely open and Miss Carmichael was there. She grabbed Ritchie and began dragging him out. As smoke filled the room, she looked at Draco.

"He also knows what it's like to live in a cage."

A wall of fire shot up between them. Then it went dark. Draco was staring at the Lestrange vault as though something else was there. He remembered something he never knew he had forgotten. He remembered how it felt to live under the stairs.

He reached into his robes for the cup. This was the reason he came but the cup was worthless to him. It no longer had meaning. In anger, he threw it as hard as he could in the direction of the waterfall. It clanged a few times as it bounced to a halt. Draco didn't care. He had his wand out.

"ALOHAMORA."

With all the strength he could muster, he cast the charm to unlock the chain around the nearest leg. The dragon suddenly roared as it was able to move its limb freely. And alarms went off. There would be no quiet escape. Draco didn't care. He continued to cast the spell, releasing chain after chain. The dragon would be freed if he had to drag it out of Gringotts all by himself.

As the last chain dropped off, a dozen goblins came through the waterfall. One of them was shaking a metal contraption that gave a cacophony of noise. Others were shouting and pointing at Draco. One of them saw the cup that had been thrown away and picked it up. He took it to the man next to the one with the noisemaker.

And the dragon. The dragon roared. The goblin with the contraption made even more noise with it. It may have worked before but now it only filled the beast with anger. It let out a roar followed by flame. Half the goblins caught fire, including the one with the noisemaker.

A thump. Something hit Draco's mental shield. It may have been coincidence but he instantly looked at the goblin who had picked up the cup. His sleeve was on fire and he was rolling the cup over it to help smother the flame.

Apparently the dragon felt it, too. It flamed again. Directly at the cup holder. Its flame was hotter this time, and lasted longer. When it finally stopped, there was nothing left but scorched earth and ashes.

Draco was in shock. He had just seen twelve goblins die. Burned alive. Fresh memories made that sight too painful. It was the unexpected that brought him back to the rear world.

The dragon, free at last and rid of its tormentors, grabbed Draco with its taloned claw and pulled him to its chest. It then launched itself upward. For what seemed forever, all Draco could hear was the sound of walls being smashed as the dragon literally broke its way out. There was a triumphant cry after the last wall or ceiling or whatever. Then they were free and flying through the London skies.


	8. Exit The Dragon

A/N: Again, my thanks to everyone for reading this far. I know I'm supposed to be clever at this point but I can never do it. My mind goes on vacation as soon as I try to be spontaneous and clever. I know it will return as soon as I do something stupid, just to laugh at me along with everyone else.

Chapter 8: Exit The Dragon

It was almost noon. Despite that, no one in the room had yet been to bed. The exception was Draco Malfoy. He admitted that he fell asleep during his long journey.

It was a small group that had gathered in the headmaster's office. With Albus Dumbledore and the young Malfoy were Charlie Weasley and his friend Dafydd. Draco recognized the oriental looking man by the fact that he had a strong Welsh accent. They were recounting their adventures in pursuit of the Hebridian Black dragon that had emerged from the bowels of Gringotts Bank.

"We were in the Leaky Cauldron when it happened," Charlie Weasley explained. "We were meeting with Ludo Bagman, concerning the Tri-Wizard Tournament. We had just retired to a private room on the second floor when we heard . . ."

"And felt," Dafydd added.

". . . and definitely felt the bank explode. All three of us arose and ran over to the window looking out on Diagon Alley. We were in time to see the dragon take flight."

As Charlie described it, the beast appeared to be old and ill kept. (He smiled when Draco told him he was right about that.) Their first concern was about what the dragon might do. Dafydd, with Bagman, rushed to the sporting goods shop to get a broom. It was a lucky thing Bagman went with him because the shop manager would never have given one of his brooms to a stranger, much less two. Bagman's assurance that the Ministry would cover the cost was the only thing that convinced him.

By the time Dafydd was aloft, the dragon was out of sight. He flew down and walked into the Leaky Cauldron. Tom the bartender told him that "the Weasley fellow" had said north by north, north west. It was heading toward Cambridge.

Charlie Weasley had apparated to the roof of a nearby office building to judge which way the Dragon was going. He apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and gave Tom the message. Then he apparated to a point he knew in North London. As the dragon flew past, he apparated to another point further north. That was when he noticed the dragon was holding something. Someone. He waited for Dafydd at this point, signaling with his wand so he would be easily spotted.

When Dumbledore mentioned that it was quick thinking on both their parts, it was Dafydd who explained that they would do the same thing together when a dragon got loose back in Rumania. The only difference was the distance they shadowed this dragon.

It was not an exciting journey. If anything, after the first half hour, it was boring. The dragon seemed to know where it was going, and the dragon preserve was in the north, anyway, so there was no need to try to coerce its path. All they had to do was follow. Which they did. Hour after bloody hour.

It was near dawn when the dragon landed. The two men flew quietly and carefully to a spot down wind where they could be close enough to see what it did, yet not be seen. That was when they spotted Draco. The dragon had released him and was watching as the boy stretched his muscles. Charlie admitted that fear shot through him when the dragon leaned over Draco and opened its mouth.

"Her mouth," Draco corrected.

"And how did you know it was female?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco shrugged. "Dunno. Jus' knew."

Charlie began to relate what they saw. The dragon butted Draco with its nose, knocking him down. Then it rose on its hind legs and shot flame into the air. Then . . . it looked at Draco.

* * *

"Whot?" Draco yelled.

The dragon reared again and roared another mouthful of flame. It returned to watching him.

A thought occurred to Draco. It was silly but . . . maybe the dragon wanted him to do the same thing. A second thought occurred. More a memory, really. Of a Yank named Jack who spoke strange limericks. It was that one about the cups that had convinced him to try getting Helga Hufflepuff's cup to begin with. And one line was _one begets a mother's flame._ And Draco had shown his patronus, a dragonet. The dragon knew he wasn't an adult. But it knew he wasn't a baby. This second thought was that she wanted to see if he could take care of himself.

As soon as he thought that, he knew he was correct. He also knew that the dragon was becoming impatient, as with a troublesome child.

"Fine, I'll give it a go." Draco drew his wand and tried to concentrate. "FLAMMUS ERECTOR."

The dragon harumphed. That was the best Draco could described it. It then leaned low but with its head pointing away from Draco. He had a broadside view of what she was doing. A quick intake of air. A sudden release of flame with her roar. And he smiled. The roar was an important part of the flaming. The vibrations of the yell caused the combustible exhalation to ignite. But . . . he couldn't exhale flammable gas.

It was a problem. He needed to produce the effect of a flame thrower as opposed to a wall of fire. The flame was not for defense. He needed to be able to attack. Keeping that thought in mind, he tried again. When he was done, he had the nagging feeling that he was being laughed at. The dragon was watching him, so he tried a third time, then a fourth. As a reward for trying it the fourth time, he was given another demonstration,

"Flame?" Draco thought. Not a structure made of fire but only the raw flame. He knew what he wanted to do but he didn't know the proper words or gestures. After a fifth and sixth try, he decided not to try forming a spell. He would simply yell. At least the dragon would know he was making an effort.

And he yelled. "ARGH."

A flame shot out of his wand, about a foot.

The dragon made a chirping noise. She knew Draco was on the right track.

Draco tried it again, yelling louder. The flame was three times the size.

Draco screamed, thinking only about making the flames. A spout of flame almost as long as the dragon came shooting out of his wand. The dragon roared its approval with its own flame. Compared to Draco's flame, it was obvious. He was a child. But, in the dragon's eyes, he was now a formidable one.

She smiled.

"Smiled?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, you know, dragon smile." Draco shrugged his shoulders again.

She smiled and fanned her wings.

Draco knew exactly what she meant.

"Crisp it."

* * *

Neither Charlie nor Dafydd could continue for the moment. Even Dumbledore chuckled.

"Why would a dragon want to make sure Draco could fly?" the Headmaster asked. "Is your theory proven correct? Are they empathic?"

Dafydd pointed out that Draco was the proof. That was what made this a wonderful day, despite no sleep and eight hours of nonstop broom flying. Draco knew the dragon was female. He could tell the dragon's mood. He even knew he had no reason to be frightened.

Draco was startled. He had never noticed that, himself. He was surprised when the dragon first grabbed him but, as he had admitted, he was being held so comfortably that he fell asleep until the dragon started to land. But the man was correct. He was never afraid.

"Cor," Draco muttered. "I got me a new mum. Better tell Janice."

"Janice?" Charlie Weasley asked.

"Me sister."

"I thought you were an only child."

"Yeah?"

"The dragon was flapping its wings," Dumbledore prompted.

Dafydd picked up the story again. He and Charlie had a good laugh when they finally understood what the dragon was doing. When the dragon began flapping its wings, they knew what it meant. And they knew Draco was in trouble. "And we had two brooms."

Dafydd picked up one of the brooms and held it like a spear. His plan was to throw the broom so that it landed near to the boy. If that didn't work, they would try plan B. Yell at Draco to call the other broom with his wand followed shortly by apparating out of reach of an angry and startled dragon. Plan A worked, but barely.

As Dafydd leaned back to toss the broom, Draco tried flapping his arms. The Welshman didn't mean to, but he barked a laugh as he let go of the broom.

Dragon and Draco were instantly alert. The dragon saw the two men, but Draco also noticed the broom that had been thrown off course. He ran to it.

The dragon watched carefully. Had Draco run toward the two men, she would have attacked. Instead he was running to one side. It didn't know why. Until Draco grabbed the broom.

The dragon leaped into the air, flaming as it did so. Draco, flying in a circle around the dragon, shot out a flame of his own. Two men on the ground watched as a joyful dragon flew in the air with its adopted cub. Dafydd admitted that he was probably the only one who was prepared for what happened next. In his study of dragons, parent-child relations were an important part. That was where the empathic bond was most evident. He told Charlie to watch. The dragon was about to leave.

* * *

As the dragon began to fly north, Draco automatically followed. He admitted later that he didn't even think about it. It seemed like something he should do. But the dragon twisted its head and spat flame at him. Not directly at him. At where he would have been if he did not instantly stop.

Draco was surprised. And hurt. The dragon had taken so much effort to make sure he was safe, to make sure he could take care of him self. And now?

The dragon kept flying. Draco tried to follow again. The dragon turned its head. Draco slowed. The dragon smiled at him. Draco laughed.

He was being kicked out of the house. He was old enough to take care of himself. Draco flamed. The dragon looked back, then turned its head forward. It also flamed. Draco flew after her. Flew around her. Briefly flew next to her so they could see eye to eye. He said goodbye and pulled up, flying back the way he had come.

* * *

Charlie was smiling. "He landed. We made quick introductions. A Scotsman appeared and said they would track it from here. He glanced at Draco and laughed."

"Meant it in a nice way," Dafydd said. "He wants us to come up for a bit, tell them what happened. He caught Draco's act as well."

Dumbledore nodded. He then turned to the youngest member of the group. "Now that we know what happened after the dragon escapes, I want to know what happened before."

Draco swallowed hard. "I wanted to see the dragon. Casper told everyone about it. And I knew Kreacher could apparate in and out of Gringotts. So, I had him apparate me in so I could have a look see." Draco knew the question that was coming. "I forgot to ask if he could apparate me out as well. I thought . . . it doesn't matter now."

"And you released the dragon so you could escape?" came the accusation.

An image of a dozen angry goblins swam before Draco's vision. As they disappeared in flame, Draco snarled. "I released the dragon so she could escape." His face fell. "Weren't t'inkin' 'bout me."

Draco described the dragon as best he could. The restraining chains. The mournful sound it made. The rummy eyes. The scars from . . .

Draco stopped. He couldn't continue. His own feelings were overwhelming him. Nor did he have to. He barely heard Dumbledore's explanation to the other two men. Draco had found a kindred spirit. What shocked him back to reality was Charlie Weasley's surprised remark of "Bloody Hell."

Draco looked up and their eyes met. Charlie's were conflicted, confused, as he tried to translate the headmaster's remark into a coherent thought.

"He doesn't understand," Dumbledore said.

"Good," was Draco's reply.

* * *

As the two guests departed for lunch and rest, Dumbledore asked Draco to stay.

"There was something that happened that you did not want them to know about. Do you want to tell me? I'll make it easier on you. Your DADA professor, Remus Lupin, mentioned to me in confidence that his friends had approached you. To 'pick your mind', shall we say, about stealing a cup."

"Um . . ."

"When you were found missing, your friends admitted that you were asking about Gringotts, about how to rob the bank."

"Um . . ."

"That is not an appropriate answer."

"Don' know the words," Draco snapped, angrily. "Bugger all, yeah, I stole the cup but -" In an instant the anger faded. "I threw it away when I saw . . ."

Draco looked up. He knew the fear shown in his eyes, on his face.

"The cup. The dragon's flame. When it was destroyed, I felt . . . like the diary . . . like the . . ." He had almost said 'locket' but stopped himself. Now he was staring blankly at the headmaster.

"Yes, Draco. Voldemort was the one who stole the cup and he twisted it to his own purposes, as he did the diary. Its destruction was a good thing. Although this does complicate things. Once the theft is discovered, I can give no guarantee that I can protect you."

"Won't be noticed offhand," Draco admitted. "Done left a replica in its place."

"Then we shall wait and see what happens," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Best not to mention it to anyone."

"An' the dragon? Won't they be ticked?"

"They are, Draco. And they know you were involved. The goblins are already filing complaints. And I must ask you to excuse me. I must ask the Minister to verify that the 'ill kept' dragon we found you with was the one that escaped from the bank."

Hermione explained it easily, to everyone within hearing, when Dumbledore's question made the Daily Prophet. "It's animal cruelty. They may have had the right to keep a dragon but no one has a right to do that to anyone."

Kreacher, at Draco's request, agreed to tell anyone who asked him that it was to see the dragon. Kreacher was also the only other person he told about the cup.

One more thing did occur that hadn't happened before. For whatever reason, Draco decided to attend his Defense class. Professor Lupin did not say anything to the new arrival, although he did smile. And that smile made Draco feel small. It was a smile that clearly said, 'thank you'. Inside, he knew the thanks was not only because he came to class.


	9. The Goblins

A/N: An annoyingly short chapter, I know. I blame it on lack of time. I did manage to finish the editing but . . . there's never a good excuse when you need one.

Two things of casual note. First, we had snow last night and the roads are very slippery. Second, my neighbor has a new garage, kinda. His car slid in the parking lot and went over the bump, slid down the slope, also covered in snow, and smashed through the wall into his bedroom. C'est la vie.

Chapter 9: The Goblins

It is said that no good deed goes unpunished. Draco Malfoy had finally decided to attend his Defense Against the Dark Arts class despite Remus Lupin being a member of the Potter clique. He even went so far as to admit to himself that the man seemed to be a good teacher. And he left without Lupin making any mention of his previous absences.

Hermione was a different story. She controlled herself in class but her smile made it clear to everyone that she would want to know why Draco had a change of heart. Not that she had the chance. Professor McGonagall was waiting outside the classroom.

"Mister Malfoy. You will come with me."

For the looks on all the faces, Hermione was not the only one to be disappointed that his disappearance last night would not be explained. Especially now that it was obvious that something had happened.

Draco was led directly to the headmaster's office. No words were spoken until McGonagall ushered him into the room. Three goblins glared at him as did the Minister for Magic. Dumbledore was the only one who appeared calm.

"I'll close the door," Sirius Black said from behind. Draco turned his head to see his legal guardian with a look that rivaled the Minister's.

"That is the thief who stole our dragon," one of the goblins hissed. "I demand he be turned over to us at once."

"He has the right to explain himself, first," the Minister pointed out. "Unfortunately."

The goblins grinned at the Minister's remark. The one who first spoke addressed Draco.

"Explain, then, why you stole our dragon."

"In all honesty, the dragon stole me. I have witnesses."

No one was amused by his remark. Except perhaps Dumbledore.

"You freed the dragon," the goblin accused.

"Felt sorry for her," Draco drawled. "Lying there in her own filth, chained so tightly she couldn't even move out of the way. Rummy eyed and thin. She wouldn't even attack me, even when I walked within reach."

"Are you saying," Dumbledore interrupted, "that this is a case of animal abuse?"

Draco started to answer but the Minister decided it was time for him to say something. "Perhaps, Albus, the boy arrived after the dragon had been fed but before its pen had been cleaned for the night. I personally saw the dragon pit and it was relatively clean." Turning back to Draco, he added, "I think we can forget that argument. There is something more serious to talk about. Twelve goblins were murdered by this young man."

"Ooooh," Draco said callously. "Better hang me right off, then."

As the Minister and two of the goblins lunged for Draco, he was grabbed roughly from behind. He lost his footing while Dumbledore was shouting something. He couldn't make it out because Professor McGonagall was screaming at Sirius Black to grab hold of himself. Falling heavily on his side, Draco decided staying on the floor was the best thing to do. Until all the yelling stopped or the pain in his arm eased up so he could at least move it.

The goblins were yelling. The Minister was yelling. Dumbledore was yelling back. McGonagall was standing above him yelling at Black. And Black was yelling at her. Everyone stopped when Draco yelled. Someone had stepped on his hand, the one attached to the arm that it hurt to move.

Thirty minutes later, the 'interview' continued in the infirmary when Madam Pomfrey finished attending to Draco's arm. She assured everyone that it was only a small break. When Sirius Black insisted he didn't mean to handle him that roughly, he had his words tossed back in his face. "It wasn't enough that you threw him on the ground? You had to stomp on his hand and break his fingers?"

It was not the proper time or place, but Draco had to grin when Professor McGonagall said, "Er".

The Minister used the brief silence to ask Madam Pomfrey to administer Veritaserum to the boy. She refused. The Minister explained why. She refused, again. She would not administer any potions, except for medical purposes, without the headmaster's orders and "a damn good reason".

"Minister," Dumbledore said softly, "may I suggest an alternative. All we need do is ask Mister Malfoy to promise to tell the truth."

Because the Minister was still glaring at him, Draco sneered back. "Of course, I promise."

The Minister smiled. "An unbreakable promise, Mister Malfoy. You promise to tell the truth. If you lie, you die." Crouch smirked at his little rhyme.

"An Unbreakable Vow, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore explained. "I will tell you what you need to say."

"I'll wager ten Galleons he can't do it," Black said snidely. "Any takers."

"Goblins do not throw their money away," one of them said. "We will not take the wager."

"I will," Draco said. "I'll do 'bout anythin' for money."

"Your accent is slipping," Dumbledore said. "And there will be no gambling in my presence by any of the students."

Draco stood up. He held out his good hand which Dumbledore grasped firmly in his own. The Minister held his wand over the two hands so that it was touching both of them.

Dumbledore asked his question. "Do you, Draco Malfoy, swear to answer truthfully, for the next hour, any and all questions asked you concerning the events that occurred while you were in Gringotts Bank?"

Draco answered nervously, "I swear."

A red flame wrapped around their two hands, the headmaster's and Draco's. As it faded, Dumbledore released his grasp.

"An hour?" the Minister asked. Draco looked at his pickle watch to note the time. Secretly, he hoped the 'interview' would last 61 minutes.

"Sufficient time," Dumbledore replied. "Regardless of what happened, I don't think we want Draco repeating the events to anyone who asks."

"That would not be a problem," one of the goblins said. "No one in Azkaban will ever ask."

"But he might be innocent," Dumbledore added. The way he said the word, might, let everyone know that he would not believe the worst until he knew it was the truth.

"Let's get started then," Minister Crouch said. "Mister Malfoy, why did you go to Gringotts Bank?"

"I wanted to see the dragon," Draco said evenly. He smiled as he understood something. All he had to do was tell the truth. It didn't have to be the whole truth. He didn't have to mention going into a vault. "I even had a plan to make sure it didn't attack me. My patronus is a dragon."

A goblin asked him to explain that remark. Draco related his plan to call his patronus and have it stand over him. The dragon would think he was a dragon and wouldn't hurt him. When the goblin asked in surprise if it had worked, Draco sneered. He told the goblin that when the dragon turned to look at him his courage failed. The dragon never saw his patronus, not clearly at least. When asked what did the dragon do, he explained that she sniffed him then turned away, moaning. She couldn't be bothered.

"What happened when the goblins came?" The Minister asked.

"No goblins came," Draco answered easily. "No one came."

Everyone paused.

"No one?" the Minister asked.

"No. Well, Kreacher was there when he took me to see the dragon but he left at once." His sneer was back. "I didn't want him to get hurt."

The Minister and the goblins began discussing something, loud enough so that Draco could hear them talking but not loud enough that he could make out what they were saying. Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore joined the group.

Madam Pomfrey used the time to see how Draco's hand was. She smiled when he showed her he could bend his fingers a little. She also assured him that his hand would be fine by the time the interview was over.

"Excuse me," the Minister said with surprising politeness to Madam Pomfrey. They were ready to begin asking questions again.

"Whot?"

It was Sirius Black who spoke. "Draco, please tell them I was there with you. I can verify everything you told them."

Draco frowned. "You weren't there," he said without thinking. "No one else was there. Only myself and the dragon."

"The oath is working," Sirius Black told them. "He answered too quickly to even think about it. And I know the ba . . . boy. He would think about that."

The chief goblin claimed that the Oath was a fraud, a fake to cheat them of justice. The Minister assured them that he had cast the spell himself. The boy was still alive, therefore he must have spoken the truth despite the clear evidence to show where the goblins had died.

Dumbledore suggested that perhaps Draco did not see or hear the goblins. If they came after Draco had released the dragon from its chains, he may have been too distracted to notice.

"He could be right," Draco noted. "But I'm surprised no one asked me about the dragon."

"What about the dragon?" Dumbledore asked casually.

"Whot I said earlier, about her condition. It's all true. And I'd wager me cobblers she weren't just fed."

"Cobblers?" a goblin asked.

Dumbledore immediately motioned for Draco not to answer that question. He smiled at the goblin. "It is a colloquial expression. Mister Malfoy is saying he would stake his life on his statement about the dragon." He paused for effect. "In view of the oath he made, he has staked his life. We must believe Draco."

The Minister snarled before the goblins could. "There are twelve piles of ashes down there and you want us to consider if they were feeding it properly? That is insulting, not only to the goblin community but to the Ministry, itself."

"Only if it is a lie," Dumbledore added. "Draco is guilty of releasing the dragon. But if he is correct about what he believes, the goblins themselves are responsible for its aggressive behavior toward them." His voice turned dark. "Or am I to believe that no arrangements were made should such a beast break free?"

"We had the means," the goblins shouted, "but the Malfoy foiled them."

"Draco Malfoy saw nothing. He clearly stated that he saw no one." Dumbledore said the words so calmly, he could have been asking if they liked their tea. "It is normal to try to find someone to blame, but it is necessary to make sure the blame is justified."

The Minister waved the argument away. "The boy said what he believes is true. He also said there was no one there. We cannot accept his word without anything to support it. Had the dragon truly been abused, that would mitigate Malfoy's responsibility for the deaths (which did occur regardless of whether or not he noticed). The dragon escaped. Where is your proof?"

Dumbledore smiled as he reached inside his robes and pulled out two rolls of parchment. "The proof is here, Bartemius. Draco did mention in my office that there were witnesses. Two men who normally work at a dragon preserve. They were in London on Ministry business. They followed the dragon, who had taken Draco with it, with her. And they observed her until they had a chance to effect a rescue. If anything, their testimonies are more graphic."

Professor McGonagall smiled. "So Draco was also telling the truth when he said the dragon stole him."

Draco was left with Sirius Black and Madam Pomfrey while everyone else returned to Dumbledore's office.

"Should I apologize?" Sirius asked.

"Would you mean it?" Draco was flexing his hand, the one that McGonagall had stepped on. The broken fingers were completely healed, although the hand still felt stiff.

Sirius barked a laugh. "You have me there. I should mean it, but . . . you have my apology anyway." He casually walked over. "While you're still bound by that oath, why did you have Kreacher take you in there when you knew he couldn't take you back out?"

Draco answered the question with a look and a red face. A smiling Sirius Black promised to ask no more questions.

* * *

No more than fifteen minutes had passed before Professor McGonagall returned. She announced that Draco was free to leave. As it was nearly noon, he might as well go to the Great Hall. Sirius Black generously offered to escort him, pointing out that he did apologize for losing his temper. Again. It was an occupational hazard when you were Draco's legal guardian.

McGonagall agreed only because she heard Draco's snort. She also admonished Draco to tell no one about what happened.

Sirius tried to make conversation as they walked through the corridors. He made the mistake of first asking how Draco liked the DADA teacher. For that, he received his longest answer. "He's your friend." Efforts to change the subject resulted in one word answers or grunts. He did get Draco to laugh a little when he called the boy a "moody little bastard".

As luck would have it, Hermione and Justin were standing outside the Great Hall, talking to each other. (As they were in different houses, it was hard to talk once they went inside and sat at separate tables.) Their presence meant that he could be free of Sirius Black. Except that black insisted on saying hello to his friends before leaving.

Justin was smiling as the walked up. "What was the big meeting all about, then?"

Draco couldn't help himself. "Went into Gringotts to see the dragon. Ended up setting her free. She smashed the place all to hell getting out."

Hermione was horrified at the thought, but her first concern was for her friend. She quickly asked, "What happened to you?"

"The dragon took me with her when she left."

"Malfoy?" It was Sirius Black's very surprised voice.

Draco looked at his pickle watch. It was now 58 minutes since he had taken the oath.

"BLOODY HELL!"


	10. Memories

A/N: I love Author's notes. It's like being given permission to flex your ego. Not that anybody cares. I always talk about being busy but I should be honest. It's not that I always work, although I do enough of that, it's that I don't have the time to sit at the computer. Exception: This week. Major snowfall expected. Everyone panicked. We got slightly more than half of what was predicted. And I got a three day weekend. But no pay.

Anyway, one of the problems I had last week was too much work at the end of the week and too much free time at the beginning. I put things off and then had to rush the edit and final rewrite. The result was a truncated chapter. (For those who are interested, truncated means cut short. For those of you who aren't interested, you've already stopped reading the author's note so it really doesn't matter what I say.)

Anyhow, as a piece of trivial, if I had bothered to do the full edit, the last chapter would have ended at the first break of this story. Will I ever correct it? You're asking the guy who procrastinated? Well, maybe.

Chapter 10: Memories

October had been a strange month. People were rarely friendly but even his mates were giving him strange looks. A good example was when he was writing a letter to Janice to tell her about the dragon. He mused to Hermione that he wished he could tell Miss Carmichael about it as well. When he muttered something about that stupid secrecy rule, Hermione gave him a strange look. As though she had no idea what he was talking about.

Later, when Draco related the incident to Justin, he received the same look. That was when he began to wonder what was wrong. Why were they acting strange all of a sudden.

Uncle Severus asked him to stay after class the next day. He seemed normal but he kept asking questions about the home Miss Carmichael managed. He seemed mildly curious and often asked Draco to elaborate on a certain point or two.

Draco was worried. Severus Snape never showed any interest in Draco's life at the home. The man once said that the muggle would was behind him. He mostly found it boring. This sudden curiosity was worrying.

It wasn't only about Miss Carmichael. Some of his housemates asked him about the dragon. And about the goblins. Draco could only stare at them. What dragon? And why would goblins care? It made no sense.

Students from other houses asked him about the dragon as well. He simply smiled at them and walked away. By now, Draco needed someone to talk to. Uncle Severus was giving him strange looks. So was McGonagall. Hagrid was asking him how he was feeling. The only person who was acting normal was his godfather. That was why, one week before Halloween, he sought out Rodolphus Lestrange in his office.

"They're asking about dragons?" Uncle Rodolphus asked.

"Dragon," Draco clarified. "Plenty of goblins, though."

The man nodded, as though asking about goblins would make sense. "And you know nothing about dragons? I'll talk to Professor Hagrid. I'm sure he would love to teach your class everything he knows. Ahhh, I'd better not. He'll want to bring one for all of you to pet. And he'll probably forget to feed it first."

Draco cheerfully laughed at the thought. For some reason, the image of a baby dragon appeared in his thoughts. Uncle Rodolphus, however, asked another question and the image faded away.

"They're also asking about your old caretaker at the orphanage?"

"Not exactly. It's more like they don't know what I'm talking about whenever I mention her. And Hermione and Justin have met Miss Carmichael."

Rodolphus Lestrange nodded his head thoughtfully. "You are right, Draco. Something strange is going on." He smiled reassuringly and said in a conspiratorial voice, "I have the solution. It may take a day or two, but I think I can make the arrangements. Although . . . Yes, I will need to confide in Madam Pomfrey."

Draco gave him a confused look.

"My plan involves administering a potion. You did say Professor Snape was acting strange. It would not be appropriate to ask his help. And, I dare say, I trust Madam Pomfrey more."

"And this plan is?" Draco asked eagerly.

"A secret," Rodolphus Lestrange laughed, "until I know it will work. You will find out my plan, whatever it ends up being, as soon as I know it will succeed. You have my promise, boy."

"That's good enough for me, Sir," Draco replied cheerfully. He left the office feeling better than he had in weeks.

* * *

Draco was sitting at breakfast. Alone. Despite the stares and whispers, or because of them, he let everyone know he wanted to eat by himself. If he was alone, he could pretend nothing was going on. It made meals easier for him.

It was three days after his talk. He wasn't expecting it, and jumped when the owl delivered the parchment. It was from his godfather. Everything had been arranged. He was to come to the infirmary immediately after breakfast. Excuses had already been made to his teachers. He smiled at the thought that he would finally find out what was wrong with his friends.

It was almost funny. As he left the Great Hall, Hermione put her hand out to stop him.

"Draco?"

He smiled and patted her hand.

"Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine. I promise."

With a glad heart, Draco made his way to meet his fellow conspirators and to find out what their solution was. His smile faded when he entered the infirmary. Four people were there. His godfather and Madam Pomfrey were no surprise. That honour fell to Sirius Black and his partner, whatever her name was.

"He isn't staying," Rodolphus Lestrange said almost at once.

"I thought I was," Sirius Black replied strongly.

"He already despises you, Black. It's her he has to learn to hate. And you will be a distraction."

Sirius Black started to reply but Madam Pomfrey cut him off. He wasn't needed, nor did he have any experience. She then suggested that he escort Professor Lestrange to his Care of Magical Creatures class. Professor Lestrange said it was a wonderful idea. They could keep an eye on each other. He was chuckling as he walked past Draco and gave the boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Draco smiled at the two women. As the door closed behind the departing men, he turned to Black's partner. "Why am I supposed to hate you?"

"You're not supposed to. From my experience that is usually the result. Although what we're going to be doing here is not the way I was taught, Madam Pomfrey assures me that the results should be the same. Only much faster."

"Faster?"

"The wonders of magical potions. Without them, the problem would take years to resolve. This way, it should only take days, possibly hours."

"Probably hours," Madam Pomfrey noted. "And, despite her handicap, Miss Brown is, in my opinion, quite capable of handling this situation."

Draco's first thought was that the lady finally has a name. His second thought was that Madam Pomfrey's reassurance seemed to be meant for both of them. His third thought was to wonder what her handicap was. Madam Pomfrey interrupted Draco by handing him a potion.

"What do I do with this?"

"You drink it?"

"Me? But I'm not the problem."

Madam Pomfrey did not smile. "It enhances your memory. We always forget things, sometimes things we need to remember. It is obvious you have forgotten something. Once you remember what that is, and the memory is secure in your mind, you will understand what the problem is. And that is what is most important."

"What did I forget?"

"I don't exactly know."

Miss Brown spoke. "But I do know. The irony is that I can't tell you what it is. All I can do is help you to remember."

Madam Pomfrey nodded toward the potion that was in Draco's hand.

"I have to ask you. Do you trust me?"

"Y-Yes," came the nervous reply.

"You have to drink the potion."

Draco hesitated. Something was wrong. What could he have forgotten? Why would he need a potion? It was everyone else that was the problem. But.

There was always a BUT. But Madam Pomfrey has told him to trust her. She had done so many things for him. He should trust her. BUT.

Draco reached a point where he couldn't think. He could only hold the small bottle in his hand. Slowly, fearfully, he raised the potion to his lips. Afraid that what he was doing was the wrong thing. With tears in his eyes, he drank the potion. And waited.

"Think back, Draco. What is the earliest thing you remember?" It was Miss Brown talking to him. "Take your time. When you are sure, tell me."

Draco tried to think back. He would have been young. Very young. He closed his eyes. Half-formed visions formed in his head. One started to take shape. He was being held by a huge man. A giant. The giant had Draco's face but his eyes were grey. He was saying something. A woman's voice said the same thing. Draco turned his head. Another giant, with red hair and green eyes, eyes just like his, was walking toward him. In her hand was a huge cupcake with a candle in it. A miniature roman candle shooting out balls of colour that made Draco laugh.

"It's my birthday," Draco said happily. "My first birthday."

* * *

Small memories flitted through Draco's mind. Being tucked in his crib. A spoonful of something wonderful being put in his mouth. A wonderful combination of joy and fear as he floated inched off the ground on a baby-Draco-sized broom.

Fear.

Fear entered his memories. Mummy was shouting. Daddy shouted back. "It's him. Go. Go now. Save Them." Draco was standing in his crib, holding on to the rail. Mummy came running into the room. Daddy was still shouting to "Save Them."

A green light flashed behind her.

Daddy stopped shouting.

Someone followed Mummy into the room. The someone that made Draco afraid. Mummy turned around to face him. She blocked Draco's view. She said something too soft for Draco to hear. The man laughed. The man shouted two words that Draco had not understood at that time. Mummy shone bright green. Then she fell.

The man, the ugly man, sneered at Draco. He raised his wand and shouted those two words again. Draco screamed. He was still screaming when someone picked him up and carried him away.

The house had changed, and so had the people. Baby Draco was now a toddler. The first word he remembered from the new adults was "NO". And he wasn't the only baby now. He learned that the other baby came first. They would play with the other baby first. Draco would have to do without if there wasn't enough time for him. They would feed the other baby first. Draco would have to do without if there wasn't enough food for him. He was kept busy while he waited for his time to come. And when he became upset, he was put in the quiet place. In time, it became his room. He didn't deserve better.

He remembered the door to the quiet place, the day it opened all on its own. Afraid of being blamed, Draco ran away. No one came after him. No one ever tried to find him.

Draco laughed. It was Constable Givens. He was kneeling in front of Draco. He said, "Hello, Sunny Jim."

The house changed again. The quiet place was at the top of the stairs instead of under them. There was no lock. A tall black woman was looking at him. Her hair was just starting to turn grey. She was telling him this was his room. His own room.

The older Draco saw these memories with two eyes. The way he first saw them, and how they really were. The wonderful little room was also a small thing, barely more than the cupboard. It had a small window and faded wallpaper that had strange stains. It was better to be there than the old cupboard under the stairs, but it was not in as good condition.

Draco remembered loving it. And he loved remembering other things. Meeting Janice. Meeting Mick. How happy he was the first time Mick asked him for help. The lessons from both of his new friends on how it was us against 'them'. 'They' had 'theirs' and it was up to us to get ours any way we could. Mick showed him some ways.

Draco laughed as he remembered how he felt the first time he stole someone's wallet. He waited three days to make sure no one knew he had it before he looked to see what he won. It had a fortune in it. Fourteen pounds. He waited two more days before he finally had the courage to ask Janice what he should do with it. That was when she taught him how to spend money.

Fond memories continued to fill Draco's mind as the years passed. Mick gave him a present when he was nine. A set of allen wrenches. He still had that set in his trunk in the dorm. Mick giving him lessons on how to pick a lock. Using those lessons to help Mick "earn some bread.".

Some memories were bittersweet. Janice's friend Cheryl changed her name and became Cherry. She made lots of new friends. She was always going out on dates and she always had money. Janice promising never to forget him once she went out to make friends and easy money as well.

To little Draco, all of this seemed a wonderful life. Teenaged Draco knew what these wonderful things really were. His best friend was a thief. Hers was a whore. And both of them wanted to be just like their friends. Janice and Draco weren't the lucky ones. They were the failures. The ones that fell through the cracks. And Miss Carmichael, always in the background, trying to make sure they were never completely lost.

The memories continued, both happy and sad. Cherry became ill. Janice moved in with her, to be her nurse instead of her partner. Officer Givens became Detective Givens. He was coming around more. The older Draco understood, now, that he was there for Janice. He remembered being told he had a daughter her age.

And there were the fights. Draco learned fast. What he didn't learn was to choose his time. He was thrown out of school.

He was sent to a new school. Hogwarts! Draco nobody was Draco somebody. He was a wizard. Then the bad news. He had a past. Many people knew his parents. And hated them. The Minister for Magic still hated them.

The more recent memories. The train ride to school. Being beaten. Waking in the infirmary. The eye patch and its removal. Meeting Hermione. Meeting Justin. Meeting Hagrid. Meeting Fred and George outside that door. Meeting Fluffy. Meeting Norbert.

Meeting Voldemort.

Draco frowned as he remembered meeting someone else. Alastor Moody. How could he have forgotten that man? Miss Carmichael was the closest thing he had to a mother. Alastor Moody took the place of his father. His memories seemed to be passing by more quickly but now he had a sense where they were leading. He was remembering that short time when he was thrown out of Hogwarts, those wonderful months of pretending to be a muggle. But he also remembered how it was going to end before he remembered the ending.

It hurt. If anything, it hurt worse than the first time. He was remembering: The basilisk was dead. He had been cured of the poison. He was laughing at the stain he left on Professor Snape's robes. And he knew: the Draco of his memories would learn very soon the truth, that Moody was dead.

Draco wanted it to stop. It wouldn't. Memory after memory returned to him. Sirius Black giving Kreacher to him by mistake, yet refusing to want him back. The locket. It was the same as the diary. It was the same as the cup.

He paused in his reflections. What cup? Was there something in his memories that he missed?

His memories did not answer him. They merely kept surfacing in chronological order whether he wanted them to or not. The summer. The guitar. Coming back to school. Coming back to school.

"Draco?" It was a woman. That Miss Brown who was Sirius Black's partner. "Tell me what the problem is?"

"I was remembering coming back to school but . . . I can't seem to remember it. The train seems all wrong."

"Maybe you went somewhere else first."

"I remember coming to London. Visiting Nigel."

"Maybe Nigel said something. Go back to when you went to see Nigel. What did he say to you?"

It seemed so easy, once Miss Brown mentioned it. There he was again, showing up on Nigel's doorstep. Nigel showing him the shop. And he was showing Draco something else. A phone number. With the word 'Mum' written above it.

Fear filled Draco's thoughts. This had to be wrong. This was supposed to be a happy thought. Why was he afraid?

"There's no answer," a voice in his head told him. Nigel's voice.

The memories flooded him. A siren. Running madly down the street. The flames. The man in the uniform looking away when Draco asked him.

Draco didn't go back to school because he went to a funeral instead.

The memories resumed their frantic pace. Running away. The Yanks. Talking with Black and his friends about a . . . cup. They gave him a cup but it wasn't THE cup.

The last memories came to him all at once. Kreacher taking him to Gringotts. The dragon. The goblins. One of them grabbing the cup. The real cup.

Draco opened his eyes. He felt like he was waking up. He felt like he hadn't slept in a long time.

Miss Brown was watching him, waiting for this moment. "What was the last thing you remembered?"

"Bugger Off."

* * *

Draco was standing in Dumbledore's office. It was a repeat of his last time, except now there was only one goblin.

"Mister Malfoy?"

Dumbledore did not need to elaborate. Everyone knew the question.

"Yeah."

There was anger in Draco's voice. The cold anger that is looking for a reason or a purpose. Failing that, at least a direction.

"I remember. Them goblins came through that waterfall. One of them saw . . . saw me and started to come toward me. Then he noticed I'd freed the dragon. He ran back to let his boss know, the one with that noisemaker."

"The clacker. The noise it makes is a warning to the dragon that we are coming."

Draco snorted. "Well, that boss forgot one thing. That dragon weren't tied up no more."

"It would still retreat before the clacker. It was trained."

"Naw. Not trained. Chained. It couldn't do anythin' all those other times."

The goblin hissed. "What did you do? Did you destroy the clacker? Is that why the dragon attacked?"

"Mister Malfoy," the Minister said angrily. "We have means to determine the truth and we will not hesitate to use them."

"How 'bout this for truth," Draco sneered. "The dragon attacked because he could."

The Minister turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, I think it is time for the veritaserum."

Dumbledore wasn't smiling, but his eyes did twinkle. He asked calmly if it were for the boy or the goblin. He trusted Draco and believed him. But Draco was raising the question that the dragon was abused. He then smiled.

"That is one area where Draco Malfoy has too much experience. What if he confirms what he said about the dragon?"

"TRICKSTER," the goblin shouted. "Did your potion restore his memory or remake it? The boy freed the dragon. He is a murderer."

"GORNUK," Dumbledore said sternly, "Never, as you well know, have I shown any prejudice to your race. But the simple fact is this. If the dragon was trained properly, it would not attack its masters. If it was abused, as Draco claims, then that is exactly what it would do. What I am asking is this: What will you do if Draco Malfoy confirms his remarks while he is under the influence of the veritiserum? If what he says is true, he is responsible for releasing the dragon, but you are responsible for the deaths of your brethren for failing to uphold your agreement to properly care for the beast. An oath you made to the Ministry in exchange for permission to harbour the dragon."

Draco heard no more of the argument as he was dismissed. He was to go back to the infirmary until the matter was resolved.

* * *

It was morning. Draco returned to the infirmary. He sat in a chair and rested his eyes. Now it was morning and he was lying in a bed.

"It does take a lot of energy out of you," Madam Pomfrey was saying.

"How long do I have to stay here?" Draco's mood was obvious. He was not happy.

"As I understand it, the matter has been put off until 'certain things' can be resolved. You could have left yesterday, had you woken up."

Draco looked surprised. It seems he had slept through the entire day. It was now Halloween. The guests from the other schools had arrived while Draco slumbered. Also, the Goblet of Fire had been revealed.

Draco nodded his head as he dressed. Madam Pomfrey explained how twenty students each from two other schools, Beaubatons and Durmstrang, would be here for the duration of the tournament. The Goblet of Fire was the means by which the champions would be chosen. Draco smiled. This was the part he already knew. Names would be written on pieces of parchment and thrown into the goblet. He also knew one thing he had to do. He glanced at his pickle watch as he put it on. He had plenty of time.

Knowing everyone was at breakfast, Draco chose his moment. The Goblet of Fire was there in the entrance hall on the opposite side of the stairwell from the Great Hall. Nor was it in the direct line of sight. That was important. He stood at the edge of the staircase making sure he was not seen. And waited a few minutes until he heard a group of students. They were laughing as they were exiting the Hall.

Suddenly Draco was running. He appeared from behind the staircase and rushed toward the Great Hall. When he 'suddenly' saw the students in front of him, he tried to stop running. He ended up stopping when he ran into Cedric Diggory. His plan to say 'excuse me' as he passed by became a round of apologies and quick explanations. He was rushing so he didn't miss breakfast. No, he was coming from the infirmary. He heard the Goblet of Fire was there and decided to take a look, that's why he turned the wrong way. He heard people leaving and thought breakfast was ending, that was why he was running.

Some of the group, there must have been a dozen of them, were laughing at Draco. One of them made a remark about why Draco was in the infirmary. Tripping over his own feet. Cedric Diggory silenced him with a look. He turned to Draco and said he had heard things. It must have been rough.

Draco tried to smile. He admitted he 'went a bit barmy'. When the same someones laughed again, Draco snarled.

"How many people have you seen die?" he asked coldly. "How many people have you seen die and you knew you were to blame?"

"You didn't mean for it to happen," Diggory said in support.

"Doesn't change anything. I still saw it."

"From what I heard, they weren't people anyway," a new member of the crowd said. "They were only goblins."

"I don't know your name," Draco replied with passion. "And I don't want to know it. Because every time I did, I would feel the hate that's in me right now." His voice became mocking. "They're _only_ goblins. They're _only _muggles. They're _only_ people YOU don't like. They think, they feel, they hurt. They are people." His voice became threatening. "Never forget that around me."

Cedric clasped Draco on the shoulder and suggested he go to breakfast. He would talk to his friends. Giving the Gryffindor a knowing smile, he added that he had something important to do. Draco glanced at the cup then returned Cedric's smile, even though he didn't feel like doing it. It would help with the impression he was trying to make.

Draco entered the Great Hall as quite a few people walked out. Several were wearing blue or red robes. All glanced curiously at him. A few also glanced at the door as they walked out. Once he stepped into the hall, Draco looked to the spot where they had looked.

Gornuk the goblin was standing there. He motioned for Draco to walk over to him.

"I heard your argument, Draco Malfoy."

"I, um, I . . ."

"I know you did not see me. That tells me your words were true." The goblin smiled. For some reason it did not seem friendly. "I will tell you what I want from you, Draco Malfoy. To settle the debt you owe us. If a thief eludes us, we will task you with his capture."

Draco had to smile. "Set a thief to catch a thief? Ain't that always the way."

"Do you agree?" the goblin asked.

"I agree to try," Draco said. "Can't promise more than that. And, you know, it sounds like it would be fun."

The goblin could have been sneering. He could have been laughing. "For all your words, you are a true Malfoy. You promise everything and nothing, all in the same sentence."

The goblin left the Great Hall. Draco shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the tables, looking for Hermione. He knew he would have to talk to her. About what happened. Not seeing her, he sighed in relief. One more thing he could put off. Then Colin Creevey's brother saw him and waved. He knew where he would sit. And he knew what he would do. His first statements was already prepared as he took his spot at the table.

"I missed last night. What happened?"

Colin smiled as his brother, Dennis, said, "It was great."


	11. I Remember Everything

A/N: I'm getting close now. Almost to the fun parts. And I mean that as a writer. There are times when you are writing a story, you just want to get through all that prologue. And that is what these first chapters were like. Getting all the board set up. Now I get to play with all the pieces.

Admit it, all you other writers out there. What's more fun. Writing about getting ready for Quidditch or writing about the match?

Chapter 11: I Remember Everything

Draco was sitting in his favorite spot. Where he had an excellent view of the lake but the shrubs and trees hid him from the school. He brought his guitar with him, saying he wanted to practice, but Hermione and Justin followed him. They needed to talk. He knew they needed to talk. But how to start?

They started off by saying nothing. How are you. How is everything. Asking questions in a way that said the answers did not matter. It was a subject that no one knew how to bring up. Finally, Justin did.

"I'm assuming neither of you heard? My inside sources in Hufflepuff (he was referring to William Potter and Casper Lestrange) informed me that the Minister was upset about what happened yesterday."

"That they, um," Hermione said, "you know, with Draco?"

Justin nodded. "It seems he liked the new Draco. He didn't want the old one back."

"Would have been better off," Draco muttered. "I'm a royal arse, you know." He smiled as Hermione tried to make a joke of it. But it was Justin who answered him.

"It's like this, mate. We just don't know the questions to ask. What happened?"

"I found out how to get into Gringotts. I saw the dragon. I felt sorry for her and freed her." A sigh. "Then she burned twelve goblins to death right in front of me." He casually shrugged his shoulders. "Black's partner, her name's Brown, by the way, calls it memory suppression. Except I was doing it too much. So they gave me a potion that made me remember. Everything."

Neither Hermione nor Justin made a comment. What could they say? 'It's good that they did that'. 'It's good that you remember'. Both knew the kind of life their friend had. Remembering all of that might have been best for his mental health, but it couldn't have been pleasant. And both tried to think what it would be like to remember your entire life. Every detail.

"Hermione," Draco asked in a sad voice. "What good have I ever done? All those times, I used you. And you too, Justin. I may have been nice about it, but I was only trying to get what I wanted."

"When did you ever use me?" Hermione demanded.

"When I became your friend. I only did it because I was lonely. I didn't even like you. I remember. Once, I thought I angered you. I was afraid you'd leave. I didn't want to be alone. Even if it meant being friends with you."

"And me, Mate?" Justin asked. "You used me how? To be your eyes and ears on how the others saw you?"

Draco started to say yes. Then he stopped. That was exactly what he was going to say. Instead he asked. "How . . ."

"I thought about it. I used you, too. Father was always teaching me about his work. He makes his living trying to influence people. I've been trying to do for you what Father has been trying to do for Mick." He gave a cheerful grin. "It's been great practice."

"I don't agree," Hermione insisted. "Using people means you manipulate them. You needed a friend. I wanted one. If you were using me, then I was using you. Either that or we were helping each other. It's your choice, Draco."

"What about Quidditch? I tricked you onto the team."

Hermione laughed. "Was that manipulation? Then manipulate me all you want. Do you know what you did? I was a wallflower. Quidditch was just some dumb sport. I would have been more than happy to sit in the stands and cheer you on or anyone else I knew." She became more serious. "Because you pushed me, I grew. I became more than I ever thought I could be. I learned, firsthand, I couldn't do everything. I couldn't be the best at everything regardless of how hard I tried. And I also learned that I didn't have to be the best if I could learn to work with other people. Because of you, I learned to be part of a team. And what did you gain by manipulating me? What was the point of getting me on the Quidditch team?"

Again, Justin answered. "I was a part of that, too. And WE did it because we thought it would be fun watching you learn from it. Draco?"

"Um, yeah."

What else could he say? They took what he said and turned it around on him. It was a conversation of only ten minutes and it was now over. The apologies and regrets that Draco had prepared were now useless. But there was still one more apology to make. Not for something he did, but for something he was going to do.

"I'm sorry to ask you this, but I need your help."

Both his friends smiled. Draco carefully explained everything he knew about Voldemort. How the man was trying to restore his body and had devised a plan. He would coordinate his restoration with the conclusion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Hermione was confused about something. Why would he wait? Draco didn't know but for some reason he asked Justin.

"Something else," Justin said, then explained. "If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had the means to restore his body and was waiting for a particular date, it could have been because of the nature of the magic. But he is waiting for a particular event. Restoring his body is not dependent upon that event. There must be a second purpose." Justin shrugged. He was sure he was right but he had no idea what it could be, except that it was probably something nasty.

Hermione was smiling at Justin. "This is why we like Draco. He gives us the interesting problems to solve." Turning to Draco, "We'll have to get back to you on that one. At least we have time. You have told someone?"

"Yeah," Draco answered. "Someone who can be trusted to tell the right people."

He saw it in their faces. He had a secret. A secret he was going to keep from them. A secret he had to keep. But at least he could tell them why. "I'm immune to Legilimency. And, just a suggestion, you might want to avoid looking people in the eye."

"The eye is the window to the soul," Hermione quoted. "With magic, that is a literal truth."

Laughter came from behind the bushes. "That was good, Hermione." It was Fred's voice, but it wasn't Fred who appeared. Two old men with long white beards who happened to be wearing Gryffindor robes. One of them spoke with George's voice. "Do you like the new look?"

"Whot?"

"It's the new look." "We tried to get past the age line." "We used an aging potion."

"You overdid it, mates," Draco said with a laugh.

"What makes you think we succeeded?"

Hermione's eyes bulged and she began to laugh. George commented that at least one person appreciated what they did. Finally they were asked what happened. Fred smiled at them. "Once everyone stopped laughing, including us, Angelina Johnson told us to watch how it's done properly."

"He fancies her," George told them.

"And what's not to like. She's beautiful, talented and smart. And she plays Quidditch."

George smiled. "I need to find a girl like that. Someone more my own age." He made his voice sound old. "Like McGonagall."

Both started laughing. Fred suggested they change for dinner. George agreed that they had time for a visit to Madam Pomfrey. He winked at Draco. "We also know how to keep a secret."

"Right!" Draco said more to himself than anyone. "Fred, George, I need a favour. Please."

The Weasley twins stopped, bemused.

"That secret you told me about." He paused. He was about to tell them something he didn't want to be common knowledge, for a few hours. "I need an excuse, how I overheard a conversation. So I don't have to blame anyone . . . specifically."

Draco knew his friends were smart. He was about to find out how smart. All four were looking at him in surprise. True, he had hinted that he would do it, but he didn't expect all of them to figure it out. Although, he should have.

Justin reached into his pocket and pulled out a five-pound note. He handed it to Hermione. She refused to take it. "Just because he put his name in doesn't mean he'll be picked."

"He'll be picked," George answered, enviously. "He wouldn't have put his name in, otherwise. Am I right, Dragon?"

"Um, sorry I didn't tell you. It's just, you know. You'd probably be picked instead of me."

A smile made its way through the white beard. "Then you are forgiven. If you need our help, there's no charge if you don't win."

As the twins walked away, Draco eyed Hermione, then Justin. "The two of you bet on what I would do?"

"Never," Hermione said. "We knew you would. We were betting if it would work."

"I won the Gringotts wager," Justin said evenly. "Luck, really. Didn't think you'd get out via dragon."

As Draco stiffened at the unintentional reminder, Hermione reached over and grabbed his hand. She assured him everything would be fine. It would all work out one way or another. And Draco had to laugh as he told her. It had worked out. The agreement was that he would catch any future thieves. The smile remained on his lips but he did not feel any of the humour. If Gringotts's called on him, he would help. It was a debt he owed.

"COR."

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"They never told me if I could. Tell about the, uh, about how I listened in."

"Ask them when we get back. I'm sure we'll have time. How did you listen in.?"

Draco smiled. "Can't tell you. Yet. I don't have permission."

"I believe you," Justin replied. "And how are you going to explain what you did. Assuming it works."

"It will," Draco assured him. "I don't want to tell my story unless I'm covered. You do know Fred and George work on things. Practical joke kind of things."

"They are planning on opening a joke shop," Hermione reminded him.

"Yeah. Well, if they don't object to my mentioning them, this is how I plan to explain myself."

Hermione and Justin were both enthralled by how deviously simple Draco's plan was and horrified by how easy it seemed. No great works of magic were involved. All he did was find a flaw in the spell cast on the Goblet of Fire, and then get someone else to put his name in. Then explanation concluded, Draco asked them to promise not to reveal what he had done.

"Three years ago," Hermione told him, "I would have run to McGonagall at once. Two years ago, I would have walked to McGonagall's office. Last year, I don't know what I would have done. But after what Justin told us about the Minister, I have no problem at all keeping your secret. And you'll have all my help."

"For what it's worth, mate, you have mine, too. Unless someone from my house becomes the champion." He paused to make sure that, in Draco's plan, there would be four champions.

Draco checked his watch. They still had two hours before they had to get back. He offered to play something for them. He did not guarantee it would sound anything like it was supposed to. Hermione laughed and suggested he play "over the hills and far away. You always say it's the best thing you can play." Both Hermione and Justin were surprised when he agreed and began to tune his guitar. She had to ask. "It's a real song?" Draco nodded.

_When I was young, I had no sense / I bought a whistle for eighteen pence / but the only tune that I could play / was over the hills and very far away / early in the morning / early in the morning / early in the morning / before the break of day._

* * *

The walk back to the castle was almost anticlimactic. As they neared, a woman standing near the doors began to walk toward them.

"Who is she?" Hermione asked when she saw Draco smile and wave.

"Rita Skeeter. She's a reporter with the Daily Prophet. She's the reason I called you about the World Quidditch Cup."

"I've read her work," Justin told them. "She has what father would call a poison pen."

Draco's grin grew wider. "That's right, mate, and I'm the ink." He called out, "Hey, Lady. Covering the tournament?"

Rita gave him a toothy grin as she eyed the guitar case. "I see you're still practicing. But I was curious when two old men with young voices walked by and said you were amazing. I had to ask: what are you scheming now, dragon rider? Planning of entering a dragon into the competition? Hmmm?"

Draco couldn't help dropping his accent. "Ain't no rider. An' yeah, I am plannin' of enterin' a dragon."

Rita Skeeter laughed. "Do you honestly think you will be chosen as Hogwarts' champion?"

"No."

Rita stopped laughing but her smile didn't fade. Draco was smiling back at her. "I want an exclusive." Her quill and pad were out. "Tell me everything."

Hermione grabbed Draco's arm. Her look told him not to say anything. Draco turned to Justin. His look said the same thing. He turned back to Rita.

"Can't. I have to tell the Minister, first."

"Bother that. I can get the details later. I want to know what will happen. I guess at the rest for now and correct myself in the followup."

Draco thought briefly. So briefly that no one noticed. "Four schools. Four Champions."

Rita gave her best grin. The one that said that while most people were descended from apes, her ancestors were sharks. "I need to get writing. I think I can get the entire front page with this story." She turned to walk away, then invited them to walk the rest of the way to the castle with her. They were going there, anyway. As they reached the doors, Rita reached out as though to open them.

"Mister Malfoy, at your earliest convenience, I want an exclusive."

"Will I get my picture in the paper?"

"Guaranteed."

"You've got it."

Rita opened the door and left them to enter the castle.

* * *

Sirius Black was waiting in the common room as Draco came down the stairs.

"I told Hermione Granger to go on ahead. I needed to talk to you. I thought we could walk to the Great Hall together."

"You wanted something?" Draco did not hide his feelings.

Sirius Black waited until they had left Gryffindor Tower before he said anything. "It had to be done, you know. It was a bad shock, but it would have been worse if we did nothing."

Draco said nothing at first. It wasn't out of meanness that he decided to lie. It was curiosity. He wanted to hear Sirius Black's explanation. Justin had mentioned only hours ago that the Minister did not approve.

"And that's why the Minister gave his approval?"

Sirius Black laughed. "After what you did? It was all I could do to not get his message." When Draco looked up, he added, "the Minister felt your loss of memory to be, uh, appropriate. He ordered everyone to leave you be."

"You expect me to believe you?" He tried to smile. "Justin heard about the Minister. I just . . ."

"I understand. You had to make sure." He patted Draco's shoulder to show he was telling the truth. He did understand.

"What do you think the Minister will do?"

"He did it. I have an extended leave of absence so that I may sort out my priorities."

"He fired you?"

Sirius laughed. "I deliberately violated his orders. Of course, he fired me."

Draco had to ask. "Was it really worth it? Losing you job because of me?"

The problem with remembering everything was that Draco remembered everything. This was the same man who saved his life from the muggle gunman. The same man who hesitated, but then saved Nigel's life as well. The man who hated Draco but helped him at Saint Brutus because it was the right thing to do. And Draco remembered the other things. The dog that always watched him as he grew up. The professor who made it a point to praise 'that Malfoy' because it would help teach the students. It was only as they neared that last staircase, he realized that Sirius had never answered the question. But by then, Draco had one more to ask.

"Miss Carmichael?"

They stopped near the stairs. Sirius made sure they were not overheard. "Good news there. Being a wizard has its advantages. We found the man. The arsonist."

"And?"

"Muggles do things differently. I gave them all the information I could so they know what to look for. They're watching him." He saw Draco start to yell and held up a finger. "Don't say it. They know he did it, and my leads gave them enough information to arrest him anytime they want."

"Why don't they?" Draco asked bitterly.

Sirius Black answered calmly, "They want to. They also want to arrest the man who paid him. Givens assured me they were making progress but it would take time. He didn't tell me, but I think he knows who it is. And my guess is it's someone important in the muggle world. They'll take their time and make sure he doesn't get away."

Draco sighed. "Thank you. For telling me."

"Thank you for listening. I knew you thought . . . well, we don't work that way. We're no angels, mind you."

For a while neither said anything. For Draco, it was a relief. As the silence grew uncomfortable, Draco thought of a question to ask, just to say something.

"Madam Pomfrey said your partner, Miss Brown, had a handicap. What was it?"

"Um." Sirius Black looked amused. "Lilian studied Psychology but she never became a professional. She decided on a more physical line of work."

"Lilian?"

"She does have a first name. And we have been together for a while."

"What's psychology?"

"It's . . . how the mind works. She explained it to me like this. We react to the things around us and on the average, people will always react the same way. Psychology is the study of how we react, and why."

"Wizards teach that?"

Sirius smiled. "This will impress you. She deliberately went to a muggle school to study that."

Draco nodded. He was impressed. Most wizards and witches wouldn't dream of doing anything that involved muggles. And now he was curious. Maybe she could let him have a book or two about this psychology. It sounded interesting.

"We should enter the Great Hall," Sirius said, looking at his watch. "It's almost time for the feast."

"You're coming in? But you were fired?"

"I am currently unemployed. I can go anywhere I want to. And I have been invited by my close friend and former school mate, Professor Remus Lupin."

"Draco smiled. "Won't the Minister be angry if you show up?'

Draco flashed a grin. "We should hurry then."

Sirius seemed surprised as he followed Draco down the last staircase. "What's the hurry? You don't need to rush."

When Draco turned back, he flashed a grin. As he stepped off the staircase into the main hall, a reporter and photographer walked over from the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Excuse me, young man," the lady called out. "Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet. Would you happen to be Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"What's all this?" Sirius asked as he joined Draco.

"And this is my legal guardian, Sirius Black. A former Auror, recently fired for giving medical aid to someone the Minister doesn't like."

"We'll hold that story for a few days, just to make sure it gets a headline." Rita was now smiling at Sirius. "And, Draco, we did a story a while back on Victor Krum . . ."

"The Bulgarian Seeker?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Rita said, happy to knock two minutes off her spiel. "He copies a Quidditch move of yours, they're calling it the Bulgarian Drop now, And if he is chosen as a champion . . ."

"Get to the point," Sirius said angrily.

"Sure," Rita answered. "Murray, take the kid's picture." As she pulled Sirius Black aside and whispered something to him, Draco posed to have his picture taken. After the flash, Murray and Rita left them and entered the Great Hall.

"You did something, didn't you?" Sirius asked.

Draco started toward the Great Hall. "You'll like it. The Minister will be furious."

As Draco entered the Hall, he heard Sirius Black shout.

"MALFOY, WHAT DID YOU DO?"


	12. The Goblet of Fire

A/N: The interesting thing about the original story was that Harry was an unwitting participant. He got to be involved in these dangerous tasks while everyone wondered who was behind it. It's almost a given that everyone who is reading this did read the book.

Also, in the last chapter, I mentioned that I was getting to the chapters that were fun to write. And this is one of them. Draco is not duped into the contest. He is jumping in with both feet. And he is adding his own touch to the proceedings. There is no scared Harry and worried Dumbledore. Instead there is a grinning Draco with his alibi all prepared.

Enjoy.

Chapter 12: The Goblet of Fire

Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall and quickly looked for Hermione. Leaving Sirius Black no chance to catch up to him, he seated himself. Hermione gave him a bemused look and asked if he were having fun. Draco smiled in response, then said hello to Ron and Dean who were sitting across from them. After that, he decided to stare at the front of the room. The Goblet of Fire had been moved to the spot where the Sorting Hat usually sat on the first day. It looked more imposing than when it was in the main hall.

"You know they're all going to hate you," Hermione whispered.

"Most of them hate me already. I'm only giving them an excuse to express themselves."

"Excuse us," Fred and George said as they leaned over on either side of Draco. "You owe us," George whispered as he pushed a small package into the robe pocket.

"Half, when I win," Draco promised, impulsively. And it was a promise he would keep. They were giving him the last piece he needed when he had to make his excuses. But for them, he would have to reveal the truth.

George grinned while Fred whispered that he would believe it when he saw it. That was when Ron asked what was up. Fred grinned and said that Draco had a plan to get them free advertising for their joke shop, once they graduated.

Finally able to relax, Draco began to look around the hall. He noticed what he had missed the day before. At the Ravenclaw table sat a large group of students wearing blue robes. Hermione told him they were the delegation from Beaubatons, the French school. The tall woman sitting next to Hagrid was their headmistress. Then she pointed out the Durmstrang delegation, wearing red robes. They were sitting with the Slytherins. It was no surprise that their headmaster was sitting next to Severus Snape.

As he looked, one of the Durmstrang students stood up. Gregory Goyle stood up next to him. Greg was scanning the tables. When his eyes passed over where he was sitting, Draco decided to wave. Greg gave a wide smile, then pointed at him.

Draco's surprised thought was that Greg was looking for him. "Hermione?" The Durmstrang student had finished thanking Greg and was now making his way to the end of the Slytherin table.

"He's coming over here," Hermione said, stating the obvious.

"Who?" Ron Weasley asked as he turned to se what Hermione was looking at. "That's Viktor Krum!" What followed were several statements about what a great Quidditch player he was. "But why is he coming over here?"

"To meet Draco, of course. You heard what he did during the match against Greece."

Ron was excited. "Yeah, the Bulgarian Drop. He made that move famous."

"And Draco Malfoy," Viktor Krum said from behind Hermione, "vas the von who first tried it."

Draco felt the need to stand up. Viktor was telling him how grateful he was for the chance to express his thanks. Draco was shaking his head and trying to say something witty or clever or polite. It wasn't only because Ron and Dean, both rabid Quidditch fans, had told him numerous times how great Krum was, once they found out that their dorm mate knew nothing of him. It was also because Hermione, Fred and George had also talked about him, having seen him at the World Cup. Lastly, it was because he never expected to meet the man, much less find out the man was still a student.

After several false starts, Draco tried honesty. He admitted he had no idea what to say. Viktor gave a polite laugh and told him not to be nervous. Then he asked if he could ask a question. How long had Draco practiced that move before he tried it in a match?

The nervousness was gone. Not because Krum asked the question but because Hermione coughed to cover her laugh. Draco had to smile. He admitted he never practiced that move. He didn't have time. He was desperate and it was the only thing he could think of. And he was lucky it worked.

Viktor Krum was impressed that a boy of fourteen would think of something so daring on the spur of the moment. When Hermione pointed out that he was thirteen at the time, Viktor smiled. He held out his hand. He told Draco how proud he was to meet a fellow Seeker who also knew to take risks when they were needed. They shook hands, Viktor promising they would get together to talk. Then the Durmstrang student went back to his seat.

Draco sat down, feeling terrible. He knew that what he was doing would anger many of the people here. Now he was afraid it would anger a new friend.

For a few brief minutes, Draco was a celebrity. He was officially the friend of the Hero of Bulgaria, who saved the match for his team. Draco remembered Ron describing it in detail. How Bulgaria was getting creamed. But when all looked hopeless, Krum shot out of the skies into the middle of the playing field, catching the snitch. Bulgaria won, 150 to 140. And, because of Draco Malfoy, everyone had to chance to see him up close. He had come over to talk to one of their own, one of the Gryffindors.

But this Gryffindor was thinking his own thoughts. The fact that Krum had come over to talk to him made his housemates think of him in a positive way. When his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, they were sure to give him their support. He was guaranteeing that one of their own, a Gryffindor, would be in the contest. When Draco began smiling, it was an honest smile, change that, a sincere smile. There was nothing honest about what Draco was planning.

* * *

The desserts had disappeared just in time. Draco was becoming anxious simply because of the wait. Finally, the headmaster stood up. It was time for the spectacle to begin. And Dumbledore did not disappoint. He said very little. It was Minister Crouch who did. Disappoint.

It was a speech. He touched upon the spirit of friendship between the various schools. How they would reforge it by this contest. That the spirits of Strength and Valor would guide the champions. He used every catch word he could. Honour. Fame. Honesty. Integrity. Etcetera. Etcetera. Etcetera.

As the man continued to talk, Draco looked around. His godfather, Rudolphus Lestrange had his usual spot at one end. He was too busy yawning to pay attention to the speech. Next to him was the Junior Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Minister's own son, Bartemius Crouch, Junior. Professor Crouch was not yawning. He was checking his timepiece. Professor McGonagall had the best reaction of any of the teachers, in Draco's humble opinion. She was staring up at the ceiling as though looking at the night sky was infinitely more appealing than listening to the Minister's speech on the virtues of competition.

Draco happened to look at Fred and George. They were having their own conversation while the students around them were doing their best not to laugh. Then he looked over at the Hufflepuff table. Justin was taking notes. Later, that Friday when they were having tea at Hagrid's Hut, he would point out to everyone that the Minister used the word, Glory, eight times.

There were other people there, all patiently waiting. Ludo Bagman, who tried to look anywhere but at the Gryffindor table. Sirius Black was sitting with Professor Lupin. He wasn't looking anywhere except the Gryffindor table. Draco found it interesting that Professor Lupin seemed amused by his friend's attitude.

Behind the men, near to a door, stood Rita Skeeter and Murray. Murray was in an excellent position for his camera.

Dumbledore rose again after the Minister finished. He simply said the cup was getting ready to make its decisions. The champions were to come up and pass the table to the wait in the room off to the right. He then waved his wand to dim the sconces. Only the glowing pumpkins were left to shed their light.

The Goblet of Fire now shone brighter than anything else in the hall. The green flame cast everything around it in an eerie glow. Suddenly, the flames turned red. As sparks shot up, a charred piece of paper soared upward from the goblet, then floated slowly down until Dumbledore snatched it from the air. The Minister stepped forward and received the parchment. He opened it and smiled as he read.

"This is no surprise. The champion for Durmstrang is VIKTOR KRUM."

The applause was greater than it had been for the Minister, and more sincere, but the man didn't to care. His precious tournament was off to a great start.

Viktor stood up and made his way behind the teacher's table. There was a flash from Murray's camera. By the time everyone's eyes cleared, Viktor was gone.

The flames turned red a second time. The parchment came out. Dumbledore caught it and handed it to the Minister.

"The Champion for Beaubatons is FLEUR DELACOUR."

Again came the applause. As the young lady stood up, Draco said, "Wow".

"She's part Veela," Hermione whispered angrily. "She only looks pretty."

"That's the point," Dean said in a louder whisper as he and Ron laughed.

Hermione grumbled. Shortly there was another camera flash. Everyone's eyes cleared. And the flames turned red a third time. This was the moment everyone, almost everyone, was waiting for. The Hogwarts champion. Wishes of luck could be heard amongst the tables from friends of the entrants. There was a collective hush as the Minister read the parchment. He turned toward the Gryffindor table.

"The Hogwarts champion is ANGELINA JOHNSON."

Gryffindor were on their feet at once. Even Draco. When he could see, Angelina was giving Fred a hug. The applause from their house, and the others, followed her all the way to the waiting room.

The Minister was happily trying to ask the students to calm down. Probably to give another speech, Draco thought. As the applause began to die, and the Minister to begin talking again, the flames of the Goblet of Fire turned red a fourth time. Draco's smile froze. He made a mistake. The Gryffindors wouldn't cheer for him. They'd hate him even more than everyone else. He was stealing the glory from their rightful champion.

As he watched his doom approach, Dumbledore picked the parchment out of the air. The Minister just as quickly snatched it from him. He didn't care. Something, Someone, had just ruined his pretty pageant. If Draco wasn't worried about how his house would react to the news, he probably would have laughed. Minister Crouch was so angry that he could not even speak.

Draco watched as Dumbeldore tried to take the parchment. The curious thing was the view of the situation. He could clearly see them in profile as Crouch looked at the headmaster. One angry, one wanting to know why he should be. In the space between them, Draco could see the teachers' table, where a very surprised Remus Lupin was sitting next to a smiling Sirius Black. Then Dumbledore took the parchment and stepped forward, blocking the view. He turned toward the Gryffindor table. And he spoke in a low tone that still carried throughout the hall.

"Draco Malfoy, you will come with me."

Draco was no longer worried about what his own house thought of him. Dumbledore's controlled anger was apparent to anyone who looked at him. And he knew why Sirius Black was smiling. Dumbledore was going to give Draco exactly what he deserved.

No one applauded. No one said anything as Draco walked up to the headmaster. No sound was made by any student as Dumbledore grabbed Draco's arm and led him directly to the waiting room. Nor did he get his picture taken. But then, Murray had already taken his picture.

The door opened as they approached the room. Draco entered first, at the headmaster's insistence. He smiled at the other three champions. Curiously, Angelina Johnson smirked.

* * *

Two of the three champions were eyeing him carefully. Angelina Johnson's smile faded as quickly as it had come. They were all now looking past him. A man's voice was heard, with an accent similar to Viktor Krum's. He was demanding to know why Dumbledore played such a dastardly trick. The Minister replied that it wasn't the headmaster's doing. This was clearly a concerted effort by Dark Wizards to create an embarrassment.

Draco was released at this point. His first act was to turn around and see who else had followed him into the room. The Minister, standing next to Professor McGonagall, had a gloating look. He addressed the foreign man who had spoken as Professor Karkaroff. He then nodded toward the tall woman, incredibly tall, taller than Hagrid, calling her Madam Maxime. He then turned back to Draco.

"These wizards made a serious mistake, I assure you. This boy will now tell us the names of everyone involved in this plot." He didn't take his eyes off of Draco. "Professor Snape, please bring us veritaserum. I don't trust the boy to be honest, otherwise."

"Good," Karkaroff said, and smiled. The tall lady asked, in a French accent, if the boy was too young. She nodded with satisfaction when she was told it would do no harm, except to the boy's pride.

"Is that true?" Draco asked, in his best innocent voice. "It won't hurt me?"

Dumbledore put a warning hand on his shoulder as the Minister said, "I would remain quiet if I were you."

Draco deliberately looked around at everyone in the room. First, he looked at the three champions behind him. All looked concerned. He glanced at Dumbledore's angry face, the Minister's almost gleeful expression. Professor McGonagall looked both angry at him and sorry for him. Behind them flanked by to two foreigners were Bagman and Crouch, junior. Bagman looked worried while the Minister's son looked amused. Lastly, standing near the door was Professor Snape. Draco watched as the man put his hand on the doorknob.

"UNCLE SEVERUS. IS THE MINISTER TELLING THE TRUTH?"

Dumbledore's hand firmed its grip on Draco's shoulder. The Minister was ordering Draco to be quiet. And, most important, Severus Snape had paused, looking back. He said clearly and distinctly that he would make sure it was administered properly.

"NO YOU WON'T," Draco shouted. Now he was angry. And he believed he had good cause. The Minister ordered him to be quiet. Draco sneered. He chose his target. The French lady. "I was sick. Badly sick." The next words were shouted as the Minister began shouting at him. Draco never took his eyes off the lady. "He fired the man that cured me. Because he cured-"

That was as far as Draco got. Albus Dumbledore had released Draco and stepped between him and the Minister. The Minister's son came from behind and tried to stop his father from charging forward. He was telling, almost shouting at his father that the boy was doing it deliberately.

As the Minister calmed down, barely, Draco decided to speak again. He had plenty of practice antagonizing people. They could ask Potter or Black if they had any doubts. His first words were low and filled with anger.

"I will speak. You can delay me but you can't stop me." He paused as the Minister almost lost his temper, again. "Everyone wants to know the truth, and if anything happens to me, you may get more than you want. You fired Sirius Black, your best Auror, because he cured me. You wanted me harmless, that's why you refused to let anyone cure me."

"Iz zat true?" the tall lady asked.

The Minister never took his eyes off of Draco. "I wanted the brat sent to Saint Mungo's hospital." He managed a cruel laugh. "I demanded no one do anything until he could be looked at by a specialist. That was why the 'best' Auror in the Ministry was fired. Because he risked the boy's safety."

Dumbledore spoke softly, almost hesitantly. "I can verify that the Minister did talk to me about having Draco sent to Saint Mungo's."

Draco never showed how he felt, now that his story was shot down so easily. The Minister was lying, Draco knew. But it was the best kind of lie. It was almost completely true. The Minister did plan on him going to a hospital. A wager of even money said that Draco would never have left.

But now his plan to tell his story was gone. If he were Hermione or Justin, he would have said something noble or intelligent and they would have listened without hesitation. But they were dealing with Draco Malfoy. And everyone knew that Draco Malfoy was a liar. There was even a prophecy that he would lie. Which was as surprising as a prophecy that a hungry man would eat a loaf of bread. How could he be angry when he had no cause?

"CRISP IT," Draco shouted, then managed to look abashed. "I - I'm sorry, Minister. I had it backwards. I had it all backwards. And no I mucked it up good."

It was the tall lady, Madame Maxime, who took the bait. She asked what the boy meant when he said he had it backwards. Draco wasn't looking at her. He was too busy trying to look small and ashamed. He even muttered in an almost crying tone, how he 'buggered it all'.

"Language, young man," Minister Crouch said, sternly, almost soothingly, then caught himself. He knew whom he was dealing with. "We need to question you anyway. What did you have backwards?"

"Sirius Black, Minister." His voice was appropriately sad. "He never liked me. I know he hated my parents." Before anyone could make the obvious comment, he added, "most people did. He kept wanting to change me."

The Minister tried to sound compassionate. "That was the reason I put him in charge."

Draco admitted that he didn't know why his legal guardian disobeyed the Minster. He didn't think it was to hurt anyone. Maybe he wanted to give Draco an excuse to trust him, to respect him. And it did work. That was why he decided to put his plan into action when he heard Black was fired.

"Plan?"

This was from Ludo Bagman. The man's voice was filled with curiosity. That was when Draco understood that Bagman had no idea what was going on.

"It was partly your fault, Sir." Draco paused for effect, trying to hide his glee. Somehow, the reversal worked. No one was hating him at the moment, because he admitted that what he had done was wrong and stupid. And he explained, without much prompting, the reason he acted that way. Everyone was now listening to him, to find out what the clever but foolish boy had done. Almost everyone. A glance upward showed Albus Dumbledore with both anger and amusement. He started his supposed explanation with a question.

"What gave me away?"

"Your accent?" Dumbledore said evenly.

"Albus?" the Minister asked, "What accent?"

"Minister, that is the accent. For Draco. When he becomes emotional, he loses his accent and speaks in his normal voice. Excuse my crudeness but he said, very emotionally and tearfully, 'I've buggered it all'."

"Crisp it," Draco cursed. "Shoulda said I buggered i' tall."

"It would have helped if you had used a different phrase entirely." Albus was now smiling.

"Minister," Severus Snape suggested. He was now standing to one side of the man. "I know Draco very well from having close contact with him for the past few years. While he has a tendency to 'stretch the truth', he also has a tendency to brag."

"I'd rather veritaserum."

Draco was silent. Something was going on. And the only indication was that Uncle Severus was looking at Albus Dumbledore the entire time he was talking to Bartemius Crouch. He was explaining that 'Malfoy' had a problem which resulted in the need to teach him occlumency, surely the Minister remembered.

Both foreign headmasters had stepped close to the Minister to hear the explanation. Ludo Bagman, in the meantime, was explaining to the other champions what had happened. Angelina Johnson actually laughed. Draco stop listening to the conversation in front of him and tried to listen to the one behind him. Angelina was saying something about braggart and warned but that was all he could make out. Bagman said, a little too loud, "Everyone knew?"

The very next moment, The Minister shouted, "IMMUNE? You Helped Him Develop An Immunity To Veritaserum?"

As all eyes were now on the Minister, he was quickly saying he understood. It simply made the task much more difficult. He did understand the need for security.

Ludo Bagman was now informing the Minister that Draco's attempt to enter the contest was well know, at least in his own house. Professor Snape had been right about the boy being a braggart. He told practically everyone that he was going to put his name in. He added, sotto voce, that Draco was not the only one to try. Fortunately, he was the only one to succeed, and did not share his method.

"Only one loophole," Draco said, feeling the need to say something.

"You see," Severus Snape added. "He couldn't resist opening his mouth."

"Yet he is keeping your secrets?" the Minister asked.

"Because I asked him to," Snape said calmly. "Believe it or not, the boy has a very strong code of honour. However, he has a very unique definition of the word."

The Minister laughed. "Draco Malfoy? An honourable man?"

"We are all Honourable men," Draco said clearly and distinctly.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, "We should let Draco . . ." Someone was knocking at the door. "Severus, please let whoever it is know that we are not to be interrupted."

Everyone waited as Professor Snape went to the door and opened it. Fierce whispering was heard. After a minute or so, Snape stepped aside to let two people enter the room. Sirius Black and Cedric Diggory. The potions professor escorted them to the Minister.

"I apologize, Minister. Mister Diggory has information on how Draco put his name into the Goblet of Fire."

"And why is that man here."

Sirius Black answered for himself. He managed to look and sound angry. "When you fired me, you forgot to remove me as his legal guardian. I have to be here."

Draco's explanation was delayed as Cedric gave one of his own. He also looked and sounded angry. How Draco ran into him, claiming he was late for breakfast. A member of his house, Justin Finch-Fletchley, was a mate of Draco. Justin had told him, and other member of his house, that one of Draco's special skills is that of a pick pocket.

"It's obvious, Minister, that he used his skills to switch the parchment in my pocket with his own. Unwittingly, I was the one to put his name in."

Draco felt Dumbledore squeeze his shoulder as he asked, "Is that true?"

"Um," Draco said. Then he shrugged. It was an easy lie. "Um." Lying was much more difficult when you were lying to someone you thought of as a friend. Especially since the lie would make sure they were no longer your friend. "Yeah."

"Impossible," the Minister said. "Even if it were true, the goblet would still choose the best qualified person from Hogwarts. And it chose Miss Johnson."

"Don't represent Hogwarts," Draco said evenly. "Tol' you. An' it's Bagman's fault. Not that he'd know to tell."

The Minister eyed Draco curiously. "Albus, his accent does change ." He was now smiling. "I suppose Mister Diggory deserves to hear the rest of the story. And please try to control your emotions. All of us want to understand what you say."

"Whot you mean . . ." Draco said angrily, then stopped. He had made the man very happy by letting himself be goaded into losing his temper. It was not fun to be on the receiving end.

"I have a couple of mates in my house who have a reputation, well deserved, as practical jokers. They even have the intelligence and skills to prove they deserve that reputation." Hermione would have been proud to hear Draco say that. It made him sound like he was smart. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what George had given him. "It's called an Extendible Ear." He smiled politely. "Permit me to demonstrate, Uncle Severus, could you take Professor McGonagall over to the door and whisper something to her?"

As they waited, Draco pointed the ear toward the door at the far end of the room. As Professor Snape whispered, his voice was heard clearly coming from the device Draco was holding. "I told you the Weasleys were involved in this, somehow."

Draco was smiling at the reactions he received. Everyone was impressed. Black forgot himself and said the device could prove useful. The Minister was nodding as well. Ludo Bagman, however, was becoming nervous. He interrupted to ask how all of this was his fault.

Draco told everyone how Fred and George asked him to test their device for them. As he was slinking around, looking for suitable candidates, he heard Bagman talking to someone. When the Minister asked who, Draco said he didn't know. He didn't recognize the voice, and he never saw either man. He merely heard them talking and pointed the ear in their general direction. Sirius Black interrupted again to ask if that meant that you did not need a line of sight to listen in on a conversation. Draco scowled.

"Talk to Fred and George. They're the ones who made. I'm trying to explain myself."

"You know that's impossible. You're just trying to make up an excuse."

Draco smiled. "Everything I say can be verified. Cedric already told you how I put my name in. Don't you want to know how I made sure I was chosen?"

"Talk to them after we're done here," the Minister told Black.

Severus Snape coughed. "I'm sorry, Minister, but I thought you fired him."

The Minister hemmed and hawed a bit, then he had a few private words with Dumbledore, deliberately taking the Extendable Ear with him. The they came back to the group around Draco, the Minister cleared his throat, then said he had merely relieved Black of his duties as an Auror. Sirius Black was to take charge of security for the Tri-Wizard Tournament in view of what his legal ward had managed to do in his absence. The Minister concluded his statement by telling Draco to continue.

The conversation was a technical one, about how the spell on the Goblet of Fire was made. Draco admitted he did not understand most of it but what he did understand was this. That the spell was designed to include other schools. The spell did not contain the names of all the schools that could compete. In fact, it contained the list of all schools of magic that could not enter. The loophole that Draco discovered was that the list was updated to include all school established since the year after the last tournament. The previous update was from the year before the tournament. That left a gap of some twenty months. It was a long shot, but he had managed to discover one school that was established between those two dates.

The young Gryffindor couldn't help but grin. "As I was the only student to enter for the Salem Witches Institute, in the United States, I was the one who was chosen."

Ludo Bagman admitted to the conversation when asked. Bartemius Crouch, Junior also acknowledged that he was the other person in the conversation. He admitted that he also did not understand most of it but he had completely missed the gap that Draco had noticed. He also pointed out that the conversation was being held in private with the knowledge that they would not be overheard. Then he added, "by ordinary means. Father, this was something I had no idea to expect."

Minister Crouch assured his son there was no need for concern. The matter was now clarified. They would correct the error, making the American school ineligible. Thus, Draco would no longer be a champion. Professor Karkaroff was already congratulating the Minister when Ludo Bagman made everyone angry again.

"But he's already been chosen. He has to compete. It's a binding magical contract."

Words were exchanged. Mostly to make sure Bagman was correct. Then to determine if there might be another loophole. One that the Minister could use. Convinced there was no other choice, Draco was recognized as the fourth champion.

The small period of silence was broken by Dumbledore.

"Professor McGonagall, please contact the Salem Witches Institute and let them know what has occurred. We will need their approval, now that we know they are involved."

The headmaster was smiling. "Minister, as Draco Malfoy is no longer as student at Hogwarts, we will be keeping him here until the headmaster at his new school informs us of how they wish to handle the situation."

"Whot?"

The Minister gave a genuine smile. "I will leave it in your capable hands, Albus." He told Bagman to take over the proceedings. Then he turned to leave, pausing to look at Cedric Diggory. He turned back. "Oh, Malfoy, it might be a nice gesture, should you win, to offer half the prize to Mister Diggory. That is not a request." He told Cedric it was a small consolation, but there really wasn't much they could. They had no way of knowing if he would have been chosen. They only knew he was deprived of the chance.

As the Minister left, Draco's only thought was that Bagman had better have made a hefty bet if he was going to get anything out of this.


	13. The Detour

A/N: There are many questions I always ask when I write a story. Is this too much? Am I keeping to the plot? Does anyone really care? Including me? But I did have a serious question. What do you call a group of dragons?

Pride would be nice, as in a pride of lions. Both are kings of the beasts in their own worlds. And others have used it. Herd could be used, as in a herd of elephants. Both are large animals. This has also been used, at least once, but I forget the book. In the end, I decided that they should be described according to the animal they most resemble. The lizard. And they are lizards, with mega pituitary problems. That is why, at one point, I will be referring to a lounge of dragons. (Why couldn't they be more like rooks? It would be great to say a Parliament of Dragons.) If any reader knows, please tell me if there is, in fact, a proper term.

Chapter 13: The Detour

It was Saturday. It had gone half past noon. Draco Malfoy walked into the Great Hall, he was dirty and tired but he was too hungry to sleep. Too much had happened. It would take him a while to go to sleep anyway. He spied Hermione, sitting back to back with Justin. At least they would have been had either of them been sitting properly. They were turned around so they could face each other, reaching back only to grab some food. It was Justin who saw him first and waved him over.

He sat down, also facing the wrong way, and leaned back against the table for support. Justin handed him a glass of pumpkin juice which he promptly drank. When he finished, Hermione handed him a plate holding two roast beef sandwiches and some crisps. He took a bite and swallowed before he even said anything. He first question was to ask what he missed.

Hermione said that Angelina had told them everything. Justin told him that Cedric did the same, but he probably wasn't as nice about it. Diggory was not very happy about the turn of events.

"Everyone hates me?"

Hermione laughed. "Why? For doing what most of us would have loved to do? The adults are furious, but even some of the Ravenclaws were complimenting you."

Justin was grinning as well. "Cedric admitted it was a clever plan. He's only upset because you chose him as the mark."

"Luck of the draw," Draco admitted. "He was the first one I saw going to put his name in." He paused. "No one's angry?"

"Not once they found out you're going to a new school."

"Cor." He had forgotten about that. Not that he thought Dumbledore was serious at the time. But Justin was still explaining. Dumbledore had appeared at breakfast and confirmed that Draco was a legitimate champion as he was representing a fourth school. The Salem Witches Institute had agreed to accept him as a student.

"But they're a witches school, a girl's school."

Hermione was shaking. Draco looked at her and realized she was trying not to laugh. Not that anyone else cared. Almost all the students around them were listening in, and they were laughing already. Draco sighed. No wonder no one was mad at him. He had become a joke.

"Hey! I'll be the only boy. It'll be great."

It was Lavender Brown who interrupted them. "I'm sure you'll look great in your new school uniform. I hear they're bringing you one." A Hufflepuff girl called out, "Will you model it for us?"

Draco sighed. He consoled himself by eating the rest of the food on his plate.

As he ate the last crisp, Justin asked him the question: How did it go? In the Hebrides? At the dragon preserve?

"It was fun."

At that point, a girl, a first year Slytherin, came running into the Great Hall screaming about danger. She screamed all the way to the teachers table.

"Oh yeah, I brought one back with me."

* * *

"I've never seen the Minister so furious," Angelina said once the man had left. "Congratulations."

"At least he left in a good mood," Draco noted.

"So, what's your new school like?"

Ludo Bagman coughed politely. He then began to tell the champions what they could expect. The tasks were designed to be dangerous, but precautions were already underway. The tasks themselves would only be revealed at the proper time. In view of the new circumstances, they would now be hard-pressed to complete the arrangements for the first task. Not that any of the champions had to worry. In essence, Bagman told them nothing except that the first task would be on November 24.

The four champions were then left to introduce themselves to each other. The teachers retired to the far end of the room, while Professor McGonagall escorted Cedric Diggory back to the main hall. Sirius Black excused himself, saying he would be outside if needed.

Fleur Delacour introduced herself. She admitted she was amazed when Angelina warned her that Draco would be coming. She also admitted she should be upset but she likes the idea of a fourth school. Although she would have preferred it if Draco had been older, more experienced. Draco didn't care. She looked beautiful and she could talk to him all she wanted as long as he could look at her. Then she smiled and asked him to repeat the last thing she had said. Draco admitted he had no idea.

"Zey are zo childish at zis age," she told Angelina.

Then it was Krum's turn to say something. He asked to correct his previous statement about taking risks when there was a need. It was clear that Draco just liked to take risks.

Draco himself was surprised. As furious as Dumbledore and Crouch were, as angry as McGonagall and the two foreigners looked, the other three champions were welcoming him. But he had to ask Angelina why she wasn't upset. His entry hurt her more than anything else.

"Fred."

"Whot?"

"Are you daft? Fred Weasley. Between him and George, all I heard for a month and a half was how they were going to enter their names. I laughed the hardest when they failed. Then they tell me, before the first name was announced that you'd found a way. When they called my name, the last thing I said was to give you my condolences. He whispered back to warn the others there would be a fourth champion."

"Uh, yeah."

It helped that Fleur and Viktor admitted they didn't understand either. Angelina told them it was simple. Draco outpranked the biggest pranksters in the school. That had to be worth something.

"May I ask a question?" Professor Dumbledore was standing close by. "Was it common knowledge that Draco had succeeded in his plan, at least that he thought he had?"

Everyone looked at Draco.

"Well, I told Justin and Hermione. And Fred and George. And Sirius Black, but that was only to get him angry."

"No one else?"

"Not that I had succeeded. I told Hagrid I had a plan that would work. And Uncle, er, Professor Snape. And Professor Lestrange. And . . . most of Gryffindor."

Dumbledore nodded his head politely. "I must pay more attention to the rumours from now on."

After a few more minutes, they exited the room and everyone returned to their seats. Most of the students were still there. The food was gone but there were still pitchers of juice. Albus Dumbledore asked everyone to fill a glass for a final toast.

"To the Tri-wizard Tournament. May the best champion win."

Draco drank his toast. He was thinking that the best champion wasn't going to win. It was going to be him.

* * *

The students were dismissed and Draco made his way out of the Great Hall flanked by Justin and Hermione. As they exited the hall, he heard Professor McGonagall call his name. She was standing by the main doors with, of all people, Charlie Weasley. As the trio approached, someone else was walking toward the doors. The Minister. No doubt the man wanted to know why anyone would want to talk to Draco.

McGonagall looked at the Minister, who admitted at once that he was curious. Because of the boy's background, and recent events, he was curious about anything that concerned Draco Malfoy.

"Too tired to make a trip?" Charlie asked once Draco stood in front of him.

Draco pointed out that it was the middle of the night. Charlie nodded and told him that they wanted everything prepped for dawn. And dawn wasn't that far away anymore. Then the Minister asked what all the preparations were for.

"Draco's dragon. The one he freed from Gringott's. It's in the Hebrides."

The Minister nodded his head. He had been informed of its condition. As an aside, he told Draco it was one of the reasons the goblins were not pursuing the matter. He asked, and seemed honestly relieved that the dragon was in much better health. The McFusty clan, who managed the preserve, had given the dragon all sorts of tonics and potions. But. And that came back to the Minister's question of why they needed Draco.

Charlie explained that it was her eyes. They had a potion to cure the problem, but the bigger problem was how to administer it. All the others were put into the dragon's food. There was no problem. But this potion was an eye wash.

"But why Draco Malfoy?" the Minister insisted.

"He has a bond with the dragon. She likes him because he freed her. She'll let him get close enough with the potion."

"Will he survive the encounter?" The Minister asked casually.

"Um, yeah?"

"Whot you mean UM YEAH? You not sure?"

"Mister Malfoy," Professor McGonagall admonished. "Watch your tongue."

"I'll watch nuffin'. 'e wants me to walk up to a dragon, and throw stuff in 'er eyes."

Bartemius Crouch chuckled. "I say let him do it. Of course, it's not my decision to make. I'm only the Minister for Magic."

Charlie looked at the Minister curiously. He glance at Draco to see the boy smiling. Draco explained that he had made another friend, today. Charlie Weasley decided to ignore both of them and directed all of his attention to Professor McGonagall. He pointed out that it didn't have to be tonight, although the potion they had on hand wouldn't last for much longer. It was also expensive to make. And if they were right, there would be enough time for them to get Draco to safety before the dragon could react.

Professor McGonagall asked the obvious question: What if they were wrong. Charlie gave her his best Weasley grin as he answered. Because of where he would be, he would never have to explain to anyone what happened.

"I am staking my life on this. Draco will be safe."

Justin nudged Draco. "Ask if you can bring a friend, to watch."

"Two friends," Hermione corrected.

"No," Charlie said before anyone else could. "The McFusty clan expect the best but always prepare for the worst. We ARE dealing with dragons. There will be no spectators. And there will be a minimal support crew on the ground. Everyone else will be at the defense perimeter." He grinned again. "That, and I can only apparate with one person."

McGonagall conceded the point. She would get Dumbledore. And one Gryffindor and one Hufflepuff would go to their respective houses. The Halloween feast was over.

* * *

As Draco's head cleared, he saw he was in a large room, a warehouse, with all sorts of contraptions on the walls and stacks of boxes in ordered piles. A loud voice said, "Och, they're here." The man smiled at the two new arrivals then nodded in the direction of the chief of the clan.

Angus McFusty was a big man, almost seven feet tall. Draco's first reaction was Hagrid's little brother. He was burly with short red hair and beard. Everyone had short hair. With his blond hair long enough to cover his ears, and his scar, Draco's was longer than anyone else. Angus explained in his thick accent that long hair was never a good idea around dragon fire.

The first order of business was gossip. Everyone had heard about the tournament. They wanted to know who the champions were, without having to wait for the morning papers.

"Me, of course." That short sentence was followed by a long explanation of how he had managed that feat, then who the other champions were and how they reacted. Several of the men smiled when he told them that the Minister was furious. One of them suggested if he was that angry at one extra champion then perhaps there should have been more. It seems the Minister was not popular amongst the clan members.

Business began with Angus giving his own explanation of what they were trying to do. The dragon was wary of anyone who approached too close. There were several close calls when she first arrived. It took a while but they finally figured out how close they could get so that she would notice her food and not attack. The main reason for the problem was that she could not see clearly. She had no idea who was approaching. Angus also noted that she reacted aggressively to any loud noise, apart from those sounds made by other dragons.

He pointed to two large cauldrons. They would be floated behind Draco as he approached the dragon. Once he was close enough, he had to get her attention. The contents would then be expelled from the pots and into her eyes. It was a simple plan. The difficult part was knowing how the dragon would react.

Charlie Weasley's task was to apparate to Draco's side the instant the potions were used. He would, hopefully, have time to apparate the both of them to the defense perimeter. Draco was warned, just in case, to be prepared to run like hell.

When it was time for Draco to ask a question, he wanted to know if he could have a broom. He was Gryffindor's Seeker and if he had to leave under his own power, it would be faster. As an added plus, he would have greater mobility if he needed to dodge anything. Like dragon's breath. Angus grinned. He sent one of his men for the best broom they had, then told Draco he had a good head on his shoulder, and a job if he ever wanted one.

The last thing they did before heading out to the preserve was to move to a small dining hall. Even though Draco wasn't that hungry, he was told to at least drink something. He was told he might need the extra energy. He had a large mug of hot chocolate. He also had a chance to talk.

"Charlie, I thought you worked in Romania?"

"I do, normally. Dad pulled a few strings when he found out the Ministry wanted someone to advise them on the care of dragons. He thought it would be nice to have me close to home for a few months." He smiled when he saw Draco's grin. "The first task was supposed to be dragons. I'm not sure exactly what they had planned though."

"Was? Why'd they change it?"

"Haven't yet. But I'll wager any galleons you've got that they're discussing it right now. After all, one student has an unfair advantage."

"They're going to change it because of me?"

Charlie nodded. "Hope they keep me at Hogwarts, though. I saw this girl from Beaubatons. I'd like to get to know her."

Draco began to describe Fleur Delacour and Charlie admitted that was the one. Charlie smiled when he was told she was part Veela.

* * *

Draco held the broom firmly in one hand. He was only on the edge of the preserve but he still felt the need to be ready. He had expected to see dragons, as in more than one, but the valley held dozens. And the valley was huge. Charlie told him it was close to ten square kilometers. He pointed at one of the medium sized dragons and Draco nodded. It was her.

The sky was light enough that he could see the way. And it was a healthy walk, a good kilometer. At least twenty minutes, maybe more if he had to move out of the way of the few dragons that were closer. Hearing Angus say it was time, he took his first steps forward. Two men called out the floating spells. A large cauldron came up on either side of Draco and shadowed him as he walked.

The sun had barely risen when he came close enough to his dragon. And she was beautiful. The dull scales that he remembered now gleamed in the morning light. Her claws were clean and sharp. And the raggedness of her body had been replaced with a more healthy look. Good food and room to move had done wonders for her. She didn't look half as good as the other dragons that Draco noticed, but she was much better than what she had been. Except for her eyes. They were still as runny looking and cloudy as he remembered. And he could see this because the dragon was now looking at him.

"Hi," Draco said softly.

The dragon lowered its head, more to sniff him then look at him. To remember his scent. He knew it was the empathic link because he began to feel a warmness, a sense of comfort, as her head came closer. She did remember him. She did know who he was. She was close enough that he raised his free hand to touch her.

Draco forgot something. He forgot why he was there. He was as surprised as she was when the potions spouted from the cauldrons and into her eyes.

The dragon pulled back and let out a roar. Draco dropped to the ground as flame shot out overhead. Behind him, he could hear people yelling. Something about not seeing him. Not that he cared. His attention was elsewhere. A twenty-meter long dragon was trying to come to terms with what she thought was an attack. She was angry. And she could now see clearly. She could see the three men who were well behind him. A glance backward showed two of them increasing the distance as quickly as possible. Charlie Weasley was also backing away but not as fast Charlie would explain later that the didn't apparate because they weren't yet in danger. All three wanted to remain fairly close in case . . . in case Draco still needed their help.

The dragon was getting ready to take wing when Draco jumped up and onto the broom. He didn't think to flee. He flew upward instead of away.

A dragon's claw came at him. He pulled sharply to one side. He heard the dragon roar again, shooting angry flames into the air above. Around him, the other dragons were beginning to react. A look to each side saw several dragons, in ones and twos, approaching to give aid. To help against the attack. And Draco looked up.

The dragon was looking at him. Her eyes were beautiful and clear. And burned with anger. Draco stopped his broom and sat there in the middle of the air.

The angry dragon leaned forward.

Draco moved toward her, slowly.

They were no more that three broom lengths apart.

Draco was looking into her eyes. All he could think of was how beautiful they looked thanks to the magic potions. Even though she was angry he couldn't help but feel happy.

Slowly, the anger faded to be replaced by a look of curiosity. Draco laughed.

"Yeah, it's me. This is what I really look like."

He felt someone sniff him. On his right was a male dragon, larger than she was.

"She adopted me," Draco said casually.

Much later, Draco would try to explain how he felt. He was surrounded by dragons. But he knew not to be afraid. He belonged. He was smaller than all the rest but he was part of this lounge of dragons. The part that scared him when he thought back on this was that he was not thinking of himself as human.

He flew amongst the dragons so they would know him, but he never went too far from her. Not at first. Here, she was in charge of him.

Now she was watching him. Draco had to show off. He flew high. He turned downward and did a loop in the air. As he came lower, he curved the broom so that he could spiral down to her. As he reached head high, he pulled out his wand and gave a wordless yell. A burst of flame shot from his wand. Life was good.

As the sun rose into the sky, the young dragons began to come near to inspect the stranger. One, a girl of ten, only a third the size of her, took wing and began to fly with Draco. An older boy joined them. The three soared through the air, looping around each other, playing catch the tail, simply having fun. In a short time, there were a half dozen of them swerving around each other in an intricate dance. The only purpose of the dance was to have fun.

A noise was heard, almost melodic, somehow familiar. His friends curved to fly toward it. He understood. There was food. He flew back. He must have been halfway across the valley by that point. There was still some play in their flight but they now had a purpose. The word breakfast came to mind.

Draco paused.

He remembered something important.

He was not a dragon.

He slowed as he neared. She was watching him. Her eyes held a mother's pride.

"I have to go."

The words meant nothing to her. She understood the feelings. In his mind, she gave him a sad smile. He gave her a sad smile of his own.

Turning the broom in the direction of the perimeter gate, he flew back to his own world.

When Draco landed, the first thing he did was look back. She was still watching him. Draco didn't know what to say when he was asked how he was. He wiped a tear from his cheek and muttered that he wasn't hurt. Angus McFusty was telling Charlie Weasley he was right. The boy had a strong bond. Perhaps too strong. It was suggested that he be taken away as soon as possible.

Charlie asked Draco if he had fun. He was holding out his arm. Draco looked back one last time. Then he apparated with Charlie back to Hogsmeade.

"How are you? Really?" Charlie asked as they made their way back to Hogwarts.

"She looked great," Draco admitted. "Lots better."

"And you? You gave all of us a fright, you know. When she blasted the air like that. And when you flew your broom straight up at her. And when the dragon king flew up to you. And a few other times when you went off . . . to play."

Draco laughed. "It was fun." He added wistfully, "I'll miss them. Not just her, but the other kids too."

"Those kids were at least as twice as big as you."

A shrug of the shoulders. "I've always been the runt."

As they reached the gate, someone shouted from behind. It was one of the men who floated the cauldrons.

"Rory?"

"Charlie, there's trouble. As soon as you left, the dragon spooked. She took off and left the preserve."

"She's coming here?" Charlie asked.

"We think. And she's flying fast. Angus has a team following her, make sure she's not seen."

Draco was horrified. Why would she do that? The two men were already answering the question. She saw him disappear. They agreed they should have walked him back to the station before they left. Charlie laughed, saying they knew for next time. What Draco wasn't ready for was Charlie's next suggestion. He and Draco would take a leisurely walk to the school and wait outside in a nice open area. Rory nodded and left them to head on to the castle at a faster pace.

"We'll wait outside?"

"She is looking for you. Do you want her to try entering Hogwarts to find you?" As both of them grinned, Charlie corrected himself. "Do you want to tell Dumbledore that you're the reason she tried to enter the school?"

"Waitin' outside sounds good."

It was a leisurely walk, both of them pointing out spots they were familiar with. When they spied the pitch, Charlie told Draco that he was once Gryffindor's Seeker. He even led them to winning the Quidditch Cup. Draco said that Oliver Wood told them all about it. Wood also said he could have played professionally if he had wanted. Then Draco admitted he helped do the same, a little, his first year. He did manage to help win the house cup.

Charlie laughed. "Any way I can find out how you did it?"

"Can't tell. Sorry."

Draco changed the subject by pointing to a spot near the lake. That was where he usually went to practice his guitar. He promised to play something for Charlie whenever he managed to get decent at it.

Hagrid was waiting for them as they walked past his hut. He was excited and asked if they knew how far away the dragon was. He joined them on their walk and insisted that Draco tell him everything that happened at the preserve. He then stopped Draco from answering by asking Charlie about Norbert.

"You mean Norberta," Charlie grinned. "And she's fine, last I saw of her. She's fitting in."

After that, there was nothing left to do but stand around and wait. And tell Hagrid, in detail, all about the dragons. The giant listened with enthusiasm, interrupting occasional to say that he wished he were there to see it himself. Draco was still telling the part about flying with the dragonets when Charlie shouted and pointed.

Draco had to ask how fast dragons could fly. Charlie told him that if needed they could average Eighty to a Hundred klicks with short bursts of more than a Hundred Twenty. He added that it was only one hundred and fifty to the preserve. Draco looked at his pickle watch. It was over an hour since they left the preserve. Draco also noticed something else. It was lunchtime. For all he had eaten the night before, he was hungry. Charlie said that was a bit of luck. No students would be around for the arrival.

* * *

As the dragon landed, Charlie and Hagrid backed away. Draco merely stood there. She landed so close that Draco felt the thud when her feet hit the ground. And she was worried.

"I'm fine. Really," Draco tried to tell her, but she insisted on looking him over, even walking around him, to make sure. Satisfied, she sat down and rested.

Draco's stomach rumbled. He was definitely hungry. And he had a thought. Looking around for the man, Rory, he saw Angus McFusty. The man was not smiling. "Did she eat?" Draco called out. The man shook his head to say no. The last thing he was going to do was shout while standing near a skittish dragon.

The boy smiled. "Kreacher?"

There was a popping noise as the house elf appeared. The dragon looked concerned but only watched because Draco was not worried. Kreacher also watched the dragon. This was not something the house elf expected.

And Draco explained. He pointed out the clan chief and told Kreacher to go over, he corrected himself, to walk over to the man and find out what dragons eat. He also warned the elf not to apparate too close to the dragon. Strange noises made her nervous.

Kreacher did not quite obey Draco. He didn't walk over to the man. His master had given him an important task and he needed to run in order to do this task as quickly as possible.

"Um," Draco said, nervously. "I'm going inside," he pointed at the main doors, "to eat. Kreacher will be . . ." Kreacher was opening the doors already. "Back soon with food. Um."

He paused, not knowing what to do. A movement to one side caught his eye and he saw one of the men from the preserve waving and pointing. Draco looked toward the doors again and saw Kreacher with a half dozen other house elves, each carrying huge platters of fresh meat. He smiled and knew he didn't have to say anything. Taking a deep breath to relax himself, Draco walked to the school. He was right about one thing. There were no students around because everyone was already eating. Except for one young girl who was also late. She paused when she saw Draco enter the main hall. He assumed she followed him but later, about ten minutes later, realized she had heard the noise from outside and went to investigate.


	14. The Yanks are Coming

A/N: This chapter is one of the reasons that I only post a chapter a week. The truth is that this chapter did not exist at all before Tuesday. In one of those great flashes of insight I realized I had rushed over a part of the story and never developed certain characters. I also threw in some exposition to get it out of the way.

Anyway. Here is the latest installment. Barring difficulties, the first task is two weeks away.

Chapter 14: The Yanks Are Coming

Twelve days. That was the thought in Draco's mind. Until the first task would take place. So far, most people were in a good mood. Draco Malfoy was one of the few exceptions. The principle reason was a Herbridian Black dragon which had taken residence on the school grounds.

But now it was Saturday and Hogsmeade weekend. Sirius Black had given his permission for Draco to go into town. He even mentioned Draco's secret fear about what might happen. If the dragon followed, he was to return at once. He also gave the boy a task. A train was arriving at Hogsmeade station at two. He was to be there to greet the new arrivals. The Americans. Sirius did point out that a certain blond boy was the reason they were coming.

Draco looked down at his plate as he sat down for breakfast. It was empty. Kreacher had finally become too busy to do the extra service of making a special breakfast for his master. Not that Draco minded. The house elf was entertaining his newest friend, the dragon. And she was entertained. Kreacher always brought her something wonderful to eat. Draco's newest fear was that she would refuse to leave because she was eating too well. Justin had told him that was the least of his worries. A happy dragon was a safe dragon. He should worry about the first task. What if she thought he was in danger and came to rescue him? Draco cringed.

Hermione sat next to Draco as she came in a few minutes later. Justin had given up on protocol, at least for breakfast, and was sitting across from them. If yelled at, all he had to do was stand up, turn around, take three steps and sit down again. Justin asked her if she was ready for the adventure. Draco admitted that he was worried that he would actually have to go to the American school once the tournament was over.

That led to a discussion of what they could expect. Hermione said first off they should find out if the American school allows pets. Justin reminded Draco that his favorite portrait, Walburga Black, might not appreciate the change. Wizards across the pond were not noted for their pure blood. She might want to be left behind. And Kreacher still worshiped her, Draco reminded them. If Draco left her behind, the house elf would look on that as desertion. Either way, no good would come of it. His only consolation was that he had six months to worry about it.

When the time came, they dutifully marched down the road to the entrance, along with everyone else. The trio had become a fivesome. Colin Creevey had asked to join them, and brought another third year, Demelza Robins, with him. Demelza admitted that she wanted to talk to Hermione. She loved Quidditch and wondered what her chances would be, next year. Hermione was honest. Her best chance was to try out for Keeper. Unless she was very good at flying. All the chasers would still be here, as well as the beaters and the seeker. Demelza frowned but said she might try out, anyway. Her frown faded when she saw Hermione smile at the idea.

Draco and Justin were grinning at each other. Hermione, only two years ago, could not have told you the rules of the game. She only made the team originally because stuck up Potter bodged it as Seeker and no one else wanted to play on a 'loser' team. Hermione agreed because she was told she would only pretend, that they would replace her with a real player just before the match. Now she was agreeing with the third year that they should have worked it out so they could have the tournament AND Quidditch.

Colin asked about the dragon. How long was it going to stay? Draco asked a question of his own. Did he really ask Hagrid if he could ride it? Colin smiled, he never had a chance to ride the hippogriph.

That brought up the question of how hard the school shook the other day. Colin said he was in the dungeons for potions and barely felt it. Justin was on the fifth floor on a different side of the building. He felt it. He said it was similar to the time he was on the top floor of a skyscraper on a windy day. At the point where it stops swaying one way and starts to go back the other way. Both looked at Draco who admitted he wasn't paying attention at the time.

It was during Charms class. The classroom was on the third floor. Professor Flitwick was explaining the difference in wand waving between attraction spells and repulsion spells. Draco was sitting in his usual seat but he was not listening. He was thinking about the dragon. He was trying to think of how he could convince her to return to the preserve. She liked him. She had adopted him. But she was confused about what he was. She was trying to figure it out yet she still tried her best to teach him.

As he was thinking this last thought, he felt the building shake. Startled, he lifted his head. The building shook again. Draco, and every other student, turned to the window. The dragon was looking into the classroom.

"Mister Malfoy?" The professor asked in a trembling voice.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I . . . I was daydreaming."

"Please pay attention." The sense of fear was still there. "For all our sakes."

"Yes, Sir."

The dragon gave a roar and disappeared from view.

Hermione then whispered to him that he had better do his homework.

Colin was the one who raised the subject. Why was Sirius Black here? He thought the man was fired. Draco explained that the Minister made him head of security. Why he did that after firing him? Draco shrugged his shoulders. Hermione muttered something under her breath as she and Demelza rejoined the conversation. She berated Draco. All he had to do was talk to Sirius. Then he would have found out that the Minister fires him about twice a month.

"Then it was a joke?" Draco dared to ask.

"Yes and no," Hermione answered. "Sirius wasn't supposed to do what he did, curing you, I mean. But the Minister couldn't fire him. It wouldn't look right. So when Sirius acted 'business as usual' the Minister used that moment to put him on the shelf, so to speak."

Justin, always quick on such things, smiled. To him it was simple. The Minister didn't want Sirius around, but needed to have him around. So he gave the man a job that required he stay in one place. Draco didn't follow it at all. Nor did it matter. His legal guardian was now a permanent fixture at Hogwarts.

Draco did disagree about one thing. He wouldn't call it 'curing', what Sirius did.

* * *

Draco had a good time wandering around Hogsmeade. Zonko's Joke Shop was a necessary stop, although he did little more than look around. That was where they parted ways with Colin and Demelza. The Sweet Shop was the next stop. He spent some of the money he had on a pair of sugar mice. After that, they were off to the Three Broomsticks, with a brief stop at the stationary shop for Hermione. The last of his money went for a bottle of butterbeer. Sooner than they wished, though, it was time to go. There was a train to meet.

Draco was happy that Justin and Hermione wanted to go with him. For both of them it would be a treat. Meeting American witches. He admitted he was nervous. They were coming because of him. Because of something he did that he shouldn't have. He had no idea how these people would react.

At 2:00, the train pulled into the station. The three waited as the few passengers disembarked. Three witches in dark blue robes. Two wore matching pointed hats, the same style as Professor McGonagall. Both looked to be the same age. The matronly witch had grey hair. The third witch was younger, with flowing blond hair. She looked to be the same age as Tonks. She was the only one without a hat.

Draco smiled as he saw their escort. Arthur Weasley. As Arthur waved to them, Hermione nudged Draco's arm. Sirius Black was walking down the platform toward them. When he reached the three students, Black suggested they walk with him to greet their new guest. He was acting friendly. At least Draco assumed it was an act. The man suggested he use his fancy voice.

Everyone around him was smiling. Arthur made the introductions. The Matronly witch was introduced as Doctor McCudgeon, Dean of the Salem Witches Institute. Sirius introduced himself, claiming the title of Director of Security. When the witch gave him a wry smile, he added that he was given the position shortly after 'Draco's little escapade' became known.

The second witch, almost as tall as Sirius Black, introduced herself as Professor Duracam. She had what Draco thought of as a western accent. She also looked as though she could handle herself in a fight, with or without magic. Appropriately, she was in charge of the Athletics Department.

It was the third witch who caught Draco's eye. She reminded him of his godfather only because she was smiling. The comparison ended there. Where Professor Lestrange always looked like he was planning something, this woman looked like she was waiting to hear the last line of an anecdote. She proudly announced she was Professor Adrem, and she was looking at Draco.

"And y'all must be Draco Malfoy, the wonderful excuse for us to come here."

Doctor McCudgeon scowled. "I wouldn't call it wonderful, Minnie."

Professor Adrem laughed. "All Y'all pay no mind to Mildred. She's just as thrilled to be here as I am. She just won't admit it."

Hermione looked at Justin. "All Y'all?"

The professor laughed again. "Don't you know your English, honey? Everyone knows that the plural of Y'all is All Y'all."

Hermione tried to be insulted, but that smile was infectious. He gave one of her own and promised to remember. She introduced herself and Justin, they were there because they were mates of Draco.

Sirius offered to escort the witches to the carriages which would take them to Hogwarts but Professor McCudgeon demurred. Before anything else, she wanted to talk to Draco Malfoy, privately. Sirius nodded and said they would all wait at the end of the platform. Arthur Weasley made it a point to pat Draco's shoulder as he passed. A minute later, he was still standing there with the Dean of the Salem Institute looking at him. Then she waved her wand.

"A silencing spell. I don't want us to be overheard. And look at me when I talk to you."

Draco looked up. At once he felt a probe against his mental shields. "It won't work. I've studied Occlumency."

The Dean nodded. "Why?"

Draco showed his scare. "It's a curse scar. If you were to try to read my mind, I would pass out from the pain before you could capture a single thought."

She smiled. "Good. That means you're not some practical joker." A pause. "Do you want to leave Hogwarts for some school in New England?"

Draco was confused by the question. "I was told I didn't have a choice. Why you askin'? Um, I mean, Why are you asking?"

Doctor McCudgeon arched an eyebrow. "Your accent is a fake? But never mind that. I want to know if YOU want to go to New England. While I would not object to a request, I'm put out that your Minister stated it as a fate accompli. He seems a bit pushy, if you ask me. It may be because I'm from Boston, but I don't like it when people tell me my job. Do you want to leave Hogwarts?"

The conversation was not what he expected. This woman was looking for an excuse not to take him as a student. He decided then and there he would answer honestly any question she asked.

"No."

"Give me a reason. Any reason. I'll dress it up so that it sounds believable."

Any number of excuses came to mind. He was English. He had to go to an English school. He was allergic to foreign countries. He was born in France but they had to leave immediately because he developed a rash. He hates pizza and everyone knows that's all that Americans eat. That and hamburgers. He thought of Hermione.

"Do you allow pets?"

McCudgeon snorted. "What in the name of the Seven Bells does that have to do with anything?"

Draco shuffled his feet. "Got one. Ain't a cat or nuffin like tha'."

"You're a Cockney." The woman gave him an honest grin. "No wonder you use a different accent. And to answer your question, we do allow pets, within reason. Cats, but you said you didn't have one. Owls, of course. Dogs, although I've never been a dog person." She gave him a questioning look. "What kind of pet do you have?"

Draco told her. Later, Professor Adrem said that was the loudest laugh she had ever heard.

With effort, the Dean asked her next question. "Do you have a better reason than that? If I tell Board that you want to bring a dragon with you, they'll demand you come."

"Got one. Don't know if you can use it."

"Try me."

"Met this kid end of summer. His grandmother was a Trelawney. Don't know if the name means anything to you."

"Cassandra Trelawney was one of the most powerful seers ever. What did this kid say?"

"Told me to win the cup, the triwizard cup. Both our lives depended on it."

Doctor McCudgeon was impressed. Draco could tell that. He could tell it was partly because he trusted her enough to tell her, having known her for only fifteen minutes. There was also something else. Perhaps that the kid could also be a seer. Then the doctor asked.

"Does this boy also attend Hogwarts."

"Naw, he's only nine or ten. An' 'e's a Yank like you. Dad's a teacher in London on an exchange program."

The doctor was hesitating. "You're supposed to be clever. Could you arrange a meeting?"

Draco smiled. It was challenge, albeit an easy one. "Sure, I'll invite 'im to the firs' task. Tell Sirius I owe 'im for talkin' me inna comin' back."

She was frowning. "Why is it that every question you answer always brings up another question?" She promised to talk again when they had the chance. The important matter was taken care of, but she wanted to know more about this boy. Draco was proving to be an interesting person.

Walking to the end of the platform, Doctor McCudgeon had the pleasure of asking Arthur Weasley where everyone else was. Arthur explained the students said they came to the station from the Leaky Cauldron. That was when Professor Duracam suggested they wet their whistles while they waited.

"Were you able to settle the matter, Mildred?"

"You were right, Arthur. I talked to the boy and got more than I bargained for."

"Would you like to go to the pub?"

"Will they miss us?"

"Not unless we miss the evening meal. Sirius Black has already informed Dumbledore."

"I've never been a drinker. But I could use a healthy walk." The Dean looked at Draco. She nodded to the school in the distance. "Do you mind? You could show me that pet of yours."

Draco nodded. This was the chance for herto learn what she could of him.

* * *

By the time they reached the gate, Draco had given Doctor McCudgeon a fair outline of his life. That he was an orphan. Miss Carmichael's funeral. Janice and Mick. She, in turn, admitted to reading about the war in the local papers but did not remember the names. She was surprised and concerned to find out that her supposed student was the Boy-Who-Lived.

"By the way, if you do come to the States, you'll find very few people who know about you. There, you're old history from the other side of the ocean."

"Lady, you gave me the first reason to want to go there."

"Most of us do know about Voldemort, in a way. We gave him our own nickname. He's referred to as Innominatus."

"Funny name."

"It's from a poem that describes a wretched self-centered man. Of course, most people who use that name know the reference but have already forgotten its source." She smiled at a thought and said to Draco, "You said I gave you a reason to come to Salem? Here's the reason one of us came here. When I was informed of what you had done, entering our school, there was one teacher, whom you've met, who had heard of you. You were mentioned in a recent article about . . ."

"Victor Krum?" Draco smiled back at the reaction he received. He knew which witch she was referring to. "She really like him?"

"Dolores said he was better than anything we've got. I'm taking her word for it."

Draco asked if that was really why Professor Duracam came. Because she knew Viktor was one of the champions. This brought out another smile. He was told he was half correct. She was coming anyway because of her position. That was why she wanted to come. Then Draco asked his next question. What did Professor Ayudrem teach? He was corrected in his pronunciation. That was how she said her a's. It was A-drem. And she taught History. She wanted to come because Hogwarts is the oldest school in the wizarding world. It would be her only chance to spend any time at the school.

"She'll love Hermione," Draco said, using his fancy voice. They were near enough to the school that they could see the main doors. And something else.

Doctor McCudgeon stopped in her tracks. "As I live and breathe. A real dragon."

"Don't you have dragons in America? I read about the Peruvian whatchamacallits."

"They're really flying snakes. Big ones, I grant you, but in the Americas they never grew legs. A different branch of the evolutionary tree."

She had started walking again. Directly toward the dragon. "How tame is your pet?"

As they came closer, Draco became nervous. "Lied about that. Ain't my pet. I'm hers."

"That is another story I'll want to hear in detail." The dragon turned and looked directly at the Doctor. She stopped even though she was still a good distance away. Her next words were not said out of fear but out of intellectual curiosity. "She isn't growling or crouching or whatever dragons do, so I assume she's not preparing to attack. Do you know what she's thinking?"

"It's a, um, empathic bond. I know what she's feelin'."

The doctor moved forward at a slow pace. She and the dragon were watching each other. "What is she feeling? Does she feel threatened?"

"No." Draco tried to describe the feeling. The last time he had felt this was a long time ago. Miss Carmichael was asking Constable Givens, "What did Draco do this time?"


	15. A Great Amount of Nothing

A/N: WARNING: Author is in a philosophical mood.

I'm always thinking. I can't help it. And as I took a walk the other day to clear my head, I found myself reflecting on this story, a story that is supposedly already written for the most part. I find I can't stop tinkering with the darned thing. Even this chapter, I've spent about eight hours reworking it and rereading it, changing a line here, a word there. Adding something. I even removed a paragraph because I managed to say it better with a snide remark.

I don't know how it is for other writers. For me, writing a story is like a zipper on a jacket. Each link on the zipper is a possibility of what could happen. Each chapter is the joining of some of those links. The possibilities become less because s of those possibilities that did not happen.

For those of you who are wondering what the Aich Eee double hockey sticks I'm talking about, I did warn you that I was feeling philosophical. You either end up going "oh, yeah" or (and more likely) "yeah, right". Besides, it is a stupid analogy. I should have gone with water and stone.

Chapter 15: A Great Amount of Nothing

Arthur Weasley looked out over the lake. He was sitting on the rock that Draco had occupied so many times. His excuse was that he wanted to ask Draco about something or other. Since Doctor McCudgeon needed to talk to Dumbledore, everyone else was still in Hogsmeade and the dragon had decided to take a nap. Draco didn't complain. He had too many questions of his own to ask.

"My first question, Mister Malfoy, is this. What is going on?"

Draco laughed. "That's my first question, too. Mr. Weasley, why'd that lady come off the train asking me if I wanted to change schools?"

"Curious, that," Arthur said. "The Minister personally told her to take you with her when she left. She didn't like that. And then she offended the Minister by saying she would consider it. They did not get along."

Draco refused to believe that was all. Arthur confirmed that he did mention Draco's name once or twice during the trip to Hogsmeade. Particularly after Doctor McCudgeon demanded to know everything about 'this boy'. In the States, the Boy-Who-Lived was a curiosity and nothing more, on par with the man who can fit eleven pool balls in his mouth. There was a pause while Draco explained what a pool ball was. Arthur continued by saying that Draco Malfoy was a name in the trivia books for most Americans.

What Doctor McCudgeon found out was that she had stepped into a hornet's nest. She remembered hearing about a boy who killed a basilisk. She did not notice or recognize the name. As for the Dark Lord, she had heard rumours. There were always dark wizards around. Even in the States. Most were of the criminal mind. There were currently no competent wizards across the water who were trying to take over the world. When she learned about the Philosopher's Stone, she understood that she had walked into something, for lack of a proper word, unexpected.

Arthur smiled at Draco. And the dragon? That was Charlie Weasley's excuse why he was at Hogwarts. Did Draco know that the first task was supposed to involve dragons? Draco caused him to laugh when he said that was why he brought his own. Then he mentioned the Veela girl who was the Beaubatons champion. Arthur shook his head, saying his son still had the roving eye.

"How many other girls has he looked at?"

"All of them, sir. Fleur Delacour's the only one he asked about. The only one he asked me about."

The next question the boy had to answer was if anything was new. It was known that Voldemort was planning his return. That the return was to coincide with the conclusion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. That Rodolphus Lestrange was expected to wait at the school until that happened. Draco told him that the tournament was fixed. He went into detail about the conversation between himself, his godfather and Ludo Bagman.

"There could be a connection," Arthur suggested.

Draco gave a derisive laugh. He also forgot to use his fancy voice. "Ain't stupid, ye know. Rabastan Lestrange even said it last year. 'e wants me dead. Me an' Potter an' Longbottom. An' if 'e can only 'ave one, I'm firs' on the list."

"Then why did you agree?"

"Somethin's up. Me godfather'd never suggest it if'n . . ." Draco took a deep breath. "Rodolphus Lestrange made an unbreakable vow to my father to help me whenever I needed it. He wouldn't have suggested I do this if it weren't the safest course. Safest for me, that is."

"Do you think you'll win?" Arthur's question was more than curiosity.

"I have to," Draco answered sadly. "There's this prophecy . . ."

"About lying?"

Draco's look answered the question. "You remember Jack? He's a Trelawney on his mother's side." Draco related the limerick the American boy recited. As well as the true events in Gringott's vault.

"Odd," Arthur said. "Prophecies are always slightly obscure. This one seems straightforward. The cup you took was destroyed by dragon's breath. By the very same dragon that keeps looking in our direction. And the second one: the cup takes you; it restores a wizard's name. You do understand, Draco, that the boy has told us what HIS plans are. This second cup, probably the trophy cup, is a portkey. Or it will be. My guess is that it will be set to activate when the winning champion grabs it." Arthur stood up. "This is amazing. We know what the Dark Lord is planning to do." He frowned.

"Whot?"

"The last line: fortune demands that you choose true." Arthur sat back down. "You have to choose. But what?"

It was because he was Draco. He had to smirk. "I'll find out after I grab the portkey." He looked at his pickle watch. "It's almost five. Should we head back, yet?"

"We could chance it. Mildred and Albus should be finished by now. And, Draco, we are going to have to be more careful if we continue to meet. I've been slipping little tidbits of information when I thought they would be useful. People are curious about my sources."

"How bad is it?"

Arthur smiled. "They have doubled the size of my department. I'm now the boss of six people."

Draco nodded. "Oh yeah, forgot to tell you something the last time. You know a man named Travers?"

Arthur shuddered. "Met him, once. Taught me to be thankful for shielding spells. Why?"

"Ran into him in Diagon Alley that day. He asked me to say hi to my godfather for him."

They were about halfway back to the castle at this point.

"Draco, Sirius Black told me that you remember everything. Last year . . ."

"Yeah, I remember killing Simon Nott. He meant that spell for me."

* * *

Four Gryffindors walked down the stairs on their way to the Great Hall. Two of them were twins.

"Well?" Hermione asked.

"Americans are stuck up and stubborn."

"Then you'll fit right in."

"They don't want me. All because the Minister told them they had to take me."

Fred and George laughed. One of them said, "and now you wish you could go."

Draco tried to frown, but they were right. "'mione, what them other two Yanks like."

"I talked with Professor Adrem, mostly. She's wonderful. Tomorrow, I'm giving her a tour of the library . . . and the school. Do you know, her first question was why you called me 'mione instead of Hermione. I told her you were from London."

"I call you Hermione."

"Only when you use your fancy voice."

"Yeah," Fred continued, "otherwise it's 'er, 'mione'. You always stutter when you use your regular voice."

"Actually, Fred," George countered, "with his accent it's more like, 'uh, 'mione'."

Draco started to object. His objection was that he always called her Hermione. Justin was the one who started calling her, 'mione.

Hermione stopped to face him. "Think, Draco. You always drop your aiches. You always called me ER - MI - O - NE. Justin assumed that ER was your way of saying excuse me."

"But Draco never says that," George noted. "Excuse me, that is."

Fred patted Draco's shoulder. "It's true, mate. Even we thought you called her 'mione. That's why we thought you fancied her."

"And," Hermione reminded him, "Professor Pettigrew (may he rot in hell) referred to me several times as your girlfriend."

As they continued walking, Draco made a promise. He would always make it a point to call her by her proper name. Hermione told him not to bother.

As they neared the entrance, Pavarti Patil was asking Ron Weasley if he knew how long Dean and Lavender have been seeing each other. They paused briefly as Ron said hello to his brothers and Draco and "Mione". Pavarti told "Mione" that Dean was seen kissing Lavender in Hogsmeade. She'd tell her later what she found out. Justin greeted Draco and "Mione" as he saw them come in. They arranged to sit close to where he was. At the last minute, Colin Creevey and his brother took the seat across the table from them. Dennis at once said, "thanks, 'mione, for helping me. McGonagall told me I really improved."

'mione looked at Draco. And smirked.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stood up as the last students entered the hall and took their seats. He very politely introduced Doctor McCudgeon and her two assistants, announcing that they would be staying at the school to see how well their candidate did in the tournament. The doctor stood up to more than modest applause. She sat down almost at once. She did not smile. Not until the food appeared on the tables. Draco barely paid attention as he at once began to fill up his own plate.

As everyone sat back to rest before the desserts appeared, Dennis decided to ask his question. "Draco, are you really going to a girls' school."

"No, he isn't," Hermione said. That made Draco wonder how much she knew about what he and the doctor talked about, but she added, "they became 'co-ed' four years ago. Plenty of boys go there, now." She then explained to Draco that co-ed meant coeducational. She then added that it meant that they taught both boys and girls. She concluded by telling Draco that he was old enough that she shouldn't have to explain words to him anymore.

Hermione was smiling. "What did you and Mister Weasley talk about?"

"Um, girls. He noticed his son eyeing that girl from Beaubatons. What did you talk about with those teachers?"

"You. At least that's what I talked to Professor Adrem about. Professor Duracam had Justin give her a tour of Hufflepuff. I'm guessing they talked about the same thing." She turned around and called Justin's name. When Justin turned around she asked him. He told her she was right. Draco tried to ask his own question but Dennis beat him to it.

"Why'd they split you up? Was it a test or something?"

"I asked," Justin called back. More than their small group was listening now. "They each get our own stories then compare notes. That way they know where the lies are." As the laughter died down Justin added, "they're curious about you, Draco. To them, you were a nobody. Here, you're the center of attention."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "There's another reason, too. Professor Adrem let slip that being part of the tournament is what she called a big ego boost to the school. Everyone knows they're a good school, but being here gives them an international reputation. I think they want to make a good impression so that they're invited back."

Draco understood something that no one else at the table knew. Doctor McCudgeon's first act as a guest in this country was to argue with the Minister for Magic. The Minister would make sure they were never invited to return.

* * *

After the meal, Draco stayed behind. So did the other champions. Rita Skeeter and Harvey were back to take pictures of the Americans. First, the three witches posed. Next, Draco was added. Then there was the group picture. All four champions with the head's of their respective schools standing behind them.

Once the pictures were done with, Rita tried to interview the witches. Professor McCudgeon said in a polite tone that she was grateful to Albus Dumbledore for permitting them to come. Professor Adrem said she was grateful to Draco Malfoy for giving them a reason to come. Professor Duracam won Draco's heart. She said she was grateful this interview was almost over because she was dog tired and wanted to go to bed.

Rita smiled and turned to Draco. "We'll talk later."

"She'll make us look like fools," Professor Duracam said to no one in particular.

"You read the Daily Prophet?" Dumbledore asked her.

"For the sports section, mostly. But I have read some of her articles. Including the one where she called you a barmy old coot."

"I missed that one. My favorite was the one where she said I was addlebrained. I like the way that word sounds."

"She always says nice things about me," Draco noted. "Except my second year, when she called me that crazy escaped lunatic." As the Americans stared, Draco added, "that was just after I ran away from the asylum."

Doctor McCudgeon eyed Draco carefully. "We'll talk later."

"They like you," Angelina Johnson said as she walked with Draco back to Gryffindor. "I know you're going to have a wonderful time at your new school."

"Um, what if I don't go? I know everyone's being nice to me because they think I'm leaving, but . . . what if I don't go?"

"Why wouldn't they take you?"

"Things."

"But," Angelina paused. "It was in the Daily Prophet. The Minister said it was already decided." Another pause. "Why? What did you do?"

Draco couldn't help himself. "The Minister said that before he talked to anyone. That Doctor McCudgeon told me. She also said she told the Minister she would think about it. Then she asked me if I wanted to go."

Angelina didn't say anything. She was thinking about how to answer, and it seemed she wanted to give an honest answer.

"As far as Hogwarts, it won't make a difference. Your friends will still stand by you. Your enemies will still hate you. And the rest of us will still put up with you. I'd worry about the Minister. He hates you for what you did, putting your name in. If they don't take you, he'll get rid of you some other way."

Draco nodded. It was what he should have expected. He gave the password and both of them entered the common room.

* * *

"This has to be a joke, Sirius." Evelyn Brown said that so loudly that it could be heard from their hiding spot even without the Extendable Ear. Hermione told Justin and Draco to be quiet so they could keep listening. Her original intent in following them was to berate them for trying to eavesdrop on someone's conversation. She now wanted to hear the rest of it.

"There's two closed doors and a hallway between us," Draco pointed out.

"And if you're talking I can't hear what they're saying."

Evelyn Brown had just repeated herself. There was anger in her voice. "This has to be a bloody joke. Yes, I studied Psychology. Human Psychology."

"The first task is only a few days away. If we can't get rid of it this weekend, the Minister will have to delay the task."

"Then delay it. Cancel it. Or do you honestly expect me to go out there and play psychiatrist to a dragon? If I even consider that, then it's obvious that I'm the one who needs a psychiatrist."

"Could you at least try to reason with it or something?"

Even Hermione giggled at the noises Evelyn was making.

"REASON? REASON? SIRIUS, IT'S A DRAGON. IT'S AN ANIMAL. IT'S A BLOODY FOUR STORY TALL WAG YOUR TAIL AT DINNER TIME ANIMAL. YOU CAN'T REASON WITH IT."

"Draco can, sort off," Sirius said in a calm voice. "He's bonded with it."

"You want the dragon to leave? Send Draco somewhere else. It's like the nursery rhyme. 'Draco had a great big dragon / Its scales were black as ink / And everywhere that Draco went / the dragon was sure to go."

"That doesn't rhyme."

"SIRIUS!"

"Fine, I understand. And I remember that poem. It even followed him to school."

"Good. You remember it. And why does the dragon love Draco so?"

"What?"

"Why . . . does . . . the . . . dragon . . . love . . . Draco?"

The three were trying not to laugh too loud as they could hear Sirius Black singing to himself, "and why does the lamb love Mary so, love Mary so, love Mary so."

"This is amazing," Professor Duracam said from behind them, then quickly put her finger to her lips to tell them to keep quiet. She whispered quickly, "next time, close both doors to a classroom when you're trying to hide." By this time, Sirius Black was almost to the end of the stanza. Except that he stopped. They heard his voice again.

"No. That can't be the answer."

Draco swore he could hear Evelyn Brown smirking as she said, "because Draco loves the dragon, you know."

"You do?" Hermione asked.

"Well, like a sister."

"Or a mother?" Professor Duracam asked. Draco meekly nodded his head.

From the ear, Sirius's surprised voice came. "Do you think Draco's aware of this?"

"If he wasn't before, I'm sure he is, now."

"What do you mean?"

The anger finally disappeared from her voice to be replaced by surprise. "You don't know? You're the one who called him a scheming runt. You're the one who said he shouldn't be trusted. You're the one who spotted him walking down that corridor and suggested we come in here to talk. And you're the one who told me he had that Extension Ear or whatever you call it."

"Uh."

"I would wager all the money I have that he is listening to us right now."

"You are wrong," Sirius said with authority. "He was with Hermione Granger. I know her as well. She would never let him . . . What was that?"

It was no use doing anything. Justin let out a howl of laughter as Hermione began to blush fiercely. Draco heard the door to the classroom across the hall open. He heard the angry footsteps cross the hall. He saw the door they were crouched behind open up. He saw Justin, who was leaning against the door, fall onto Sirius' feet, still laughing. And he heard Professor Duracam say, "I wish I had a camera." He couldn't help himself. He pointed at Hermione and said it was her idea.

* * *

"It was not my idea," Hermione insisted.

"I do believe you," Sirius Black answered.

Everyone was walking toward the main doors. And attracting attention. Mostly by Draco and Justin singing, "Mary had a little lamb". Sirius was furious but Evelyn was telling him he deserved it, after insisting the two boys keep singing.

"May I ask, Dolores" Professor McGonagall said as she walked up to the unlikely group, "what in Merlin's name is going on? I received your message."

Draco made a note that these two were already on a first name basis.

Professor Duracam answered. "Minerva, Dear, I've an idea on how to convince the dragon to leave. I'm hoping it works. Half-hoping to be honest. Evelyn, here, was saying how dragons don't think. They feel. My guess, from what they told me, is that the dragon is worried about Draco. All we have to do is convince her that he'll be fine."

"And what do you need from me?"

"The way I see it, that dragon thinks it's Draco's momma. All we have to do is let her know that Draco's with family. It's OK if he's with family. Then she'll leave. But she doesn't know people. And you're an animagus."

Professor McGonagall was impressed. "She doesn't trust humans but she'll trust other animals."

"I hope," Dolores answered.

"One moment."

Professor McGonagall cast a patronus spell and a ghostly cat went flying away up the stairs. Draco asked and was told that the patronus was delivering a message for her. He then asked for lessons on how to do that. She told him to attend all of his classes regularly. Even the DADA classes. Only then would she even consider it.

Faster than they expected, Albus Dumbledore came down the stairs and joined them. He said was surprised at the idea and upset that he wasn't the one to think of it. It was now a small crowd that began to exit the building, with McGonagall admonishing the would-be spectators to stay inside the building because it could be dangerous. This resulted in more potential danger as the students crowded around the windows, particularly the upper floors.

The dragon was looking at Draco. He could feel its concern. Dolores Duracam pushed Draco forward and ordered him to think about his momma, about how he felt about her. He stepped forward until he was just out of reach of her now lowered head.

This close, he couldn't help but smile. He knew it was the bond, but he always felt good when he was close. Something brushed his leg. He looked down. It was Professor McGonagall in her cat form. Something butted his other leg. Sirius Black's dog sat down next to him. He glanced behind as he heard his name called. Professor Duracam said she wanted no surprises. As he watched, she began to change. Before he could react, she was gone. A mountain lion was standing there in her place. It padded over to him and sat on his other side. The cat was sitting in front of him.

Pride. That was what he felt. She was proud of him for making such friends. Then both looked up as a musical sound was heard. A scarlet form appeared from between two of the towers. It slowly circled as it dropped lower. In the gentlest possible way, Fawkes, the phoenix, landed on Draco's shoulder. As it continued to sing, he felt another emotion. Relief.

He could sense it. She had what she wanted. An assurance she could understand. And she was ready to leave. Underneath all the other emotions was another coming to the surface. Longing. Longing to be with her own kind, with other dragons. But. There was something missing. Instead of leaving, as she clearly wanted to, she was looking around. Draco started looking around, too. He didn't understand. It wasn't here. No. He wasn't here.

That's it! He's not here.

"KREACHER."

Draco had to laugh. That was the last piece to the puzzle. As the house elf came running out of Hogwarts, he could feel what she was feeling. It was safe to leave him.

"Master?" Kreacher was looking at the animals. Especially the phoenix.

"Kreacher. It's Mum. She wants to say goodbye."

"To Kreacher."

"We are family, right?"

Kreacher smiled and took his position in front of Draco, and behind Professor McGonagall. All of them were looking at the dragon. She reared on her hind legs and let out a roar. Flames shot straight up, reaching as high as the tallest tower.

She leaped. Suddenly, flapping wings were creating a small windstorm. The dragon quickly gained height. It circled the school once before flying away.

Everything was wonderful.

Life was good.

Fawkes leaped off his shoulder in anticipation, as Draco drew his wand. Both boy and Dragon gave out a roar as flames from both leaped high into the air.

Taking their cue, a half-dozen dragon tenders rose on their brooms to shadow the dragon on the way back to the preserve. They were going home.

* * *

"It was Evelyn's idea," Professor Duracam was saying. "I just knew how to put it into practice."

"For which we are all grateful," Albus told her. The small group, with two additions, were now gathered in the headmaster's office. "Mister Malfoy, how do you feel?"

Draco looked up. He had been staring into his cup of tea. "Homesick, sir. I miss her." He wiped away an imagined tear. "I know that doesn't make sense."

"You are wrong. It makes perfect sense. I could see it in your face when you stood close to her. Your worries faded away as though they never were. I think that was the first time I saw you truly happy."

"You are an amazing young man," Doctor McCudgeon told him. "Albus, I think I should let him know what we've decided."

"You're going to take him after all?" Sirius Black asked with a hint of hope.

"Yes and no. I've cut a deal with the Minister of Magic . . ."

"For Magic, Mildred," Professor Adrem corrected.

"Whatever. Anyway, the deal is that we accept Draco into our school. In exchange, we are a permanent fixture in all future tournaments. But we did leave a loophole. Draco did say he wanted to stay, so if he can present a suitable replacement, we will be forced to accept that student instead, as the Board has only made allowances for one additional student. I've assured the Minister that the replacement will have to be exceptional."

Draco was thinking that the Minister must have made a very bad impression on the Doctor.

Dumbledore nodded. "And I have invited a certain American family that Draco met during the holiday to attend the first task. They have a son who is exceptionally talent."

Professor McGonagall snorted. She had heard that the family was related to the divination teacher, once or twice removed. Sirius Black grinned into his tea. He knew the boy in question. He hoped to have the chance to coach the boy so that he seemed impressive. In fact, almost everyone was smiling. The young boy, Jack, would be offered Draco's place at the school because of his amazing talent, whatever it was. Hermione and Justin both promised to help if they could and to say nothing about the plan.

Draco was not smiling. He knew what Jack was capable of. And he was worried that the boy would do something.

* * *

It was the day before the first task. Dolores had already told Draco to use her first name in private. And they had a wonderful conversation. Draco now wanted to go to America, if only to visit certain parts of Arizona. That parts that she talked about. But now, Draco was in the kitchens talking to Kreacher. Dolores said talking about home was making her think about the foods. She told Draco he probably knew it as Tex-Mex. She then explained what Tex-Mex was. She then explained what a burrito was.

Anyway, Kreacher was now assuring Draco that everything was under control. One American teacher would find out how well one dedicated house could prepare a meal.

That done, he made his way back to the main entrance where almost everyone was waiting. Almost everyone being Hermione and Justin with Professors McCudgeon and McGonagall. The main doors opened and Sirius Black led in a family of five.

"It's him, mom." number three said, pointing at Draco. "Did Dad lose his wallet again?"

Everyone politely laughed, except for Draco. Professor McGonagall had just assured him, "We'll talk later."

Introductions were made for the adults. The nine-year-old came up at once and held out his hand, "Thanks, Draco," he winked, "for everything."

Draco smiled back and shook his hand, "You're welcome, Jack. And these are my best . . ."

Hermione was staring at Jack. Jack's sister was saying, in an annoyed tone of voice, "Mom, he's doing it again."

Draco turned back. Jack's face looked like it was made of stone. As he started to speak, Draco spoke first.

"Bloody Hell."

"_A favor being done / all know it's for fun / She has no doubt / She has to shout / this is number one."_

"Limericks?" Professor McCudgeon asked.

"It's the Irish in him," Draco suggested.

Jack blinked a few times. "Are these your friends? I mean mates." He saw the stares. "What did I say this time?"

It was Abby. She was still annoyed. "Somebody does some lady a favor and she likes it."

"Oh, why can't it be anything important."

The father was explaining that his son had made dozens of predictions. The latest before this was that the waiter would make a mistake at breakfast and serve him poached eggs instead of his usual omelette. The daughter added that she liked the one about walking out the front door and seeing a cat in a tree.

When Draco heard McGonagall's comment that the boy did have the Trelawney gift. Even though she tried to say it in a nice way, he felt he had to do something. He put his arm around the boy's shoulder and told him, "Let me show you the dinning hall. You'll like that."

Justin and Hermione followed. As Jack's eye grew larger from staring at the ceiling, Hermione patted his shoulder, "isn't this great."

Jack turned to her and smiled.

"You must take what he loves." Still smiling, he added, "This is great."

Two things of note happened that night at dinner. Hermione pronounced that boy, Jack, as creepy. And Professor Duracam called Draco to the teachers table where she was sitting. She told him she loved everything, even the refried beans. "But the Salsa, and I know Salsa," She held out a corn chip and told Draco to try some. As the Jalapeños in the dip began to burn his tongue, he heard her say, in a loud voice, "This. This Is Numero Uno."


	16. The First Task

A/N: Even though it is November in the story, spring is outside my window. So are the squirrels. They like me for some reason. Anyway, I put on some weight over the winter. The doctor told me I needed to lose the few pounds. There's only one way I know I can manage to do that. Does anyone know if there are gambling casino's in England?

Chapter 16: The First Task

It was the day of the tournament. Classes were cancelled so that everyone could relax. Draco chose to use the time to practice his guitar. In one of the deserted classrooms. Sitting behind the teacher's desk. It was there that his godfather found him.

"I will be honest. You sound better than the first time I heard you."

Draco smiled at the compliment. "Is there anything you would like to hear?"

"An answer to a question." Rodolphus Lestrange leaned against the teacher's desk. "Has anyone been by to see you? I thought not. You picked the best time to hide. As of one hour ago, you are an enemy of the Ministry. Expect things to happen. And don't expect them to be good."

"Why? Whot happened?"

Rodolphus Lestrange asked his godson if he had talked to Arthur Weasley. Draco admitted he had. The last day of the school year in June and the day the Americans arrived. As he answered, he couldn't help thinking there must have been something that he said, something that was important. But Rodolphus was frowning

"Then you did not talk to him before the witches arrived? That is odd. Because I know he left without talking to the witches again." The next line was spoken more to himself than to Draco. "There is something else going on here that I do not see."

Draco watched as the ever present smile faded. His godfather stood in thought as Draco sat in the chair holding the guitar. "Uncle. What happened?"

"I don't know the why of it, although I thought I did. You do know from the first that the

Americans refused to accept you as a student?"

"Yeah. They told me they used that as a bribe to make themselves a legitimate part of the tournament. Unless I can get an exceptional student to replace me. It's supposed to be a joke loophole, that's what Doctor McCudgeon called it . . ."

"Draco, shortly after you left breakfast this morning, and while the Great Hall was still half full, Doctor McCudgeon walked up to the Minister for Magic and told him, very loudly, that her school would not accept you as a student for any reason whatsoever. She also told him that she did not consider ANY previous agreements on the subject to be binding. Something happened during the night to change her mind completely. And, yes, I do know what was discussed in Dumbledore's office. I was also close enough to the excitement to know that Albus Dumbledore was as surprised as the Minister at what the good doctor said. Admittedly, he was not as angry."

"Jack? Did he say anything?"

"The young seer? To the witches? Not in private, I know that." A smile briefly surfaced. "He did, however, predict pizza for lunch."

Draco was confused. There was a perfectly good ruse planned for when the time came to take Draco to his new school. In May. On the other hand, there was pizza for lunch. He might as well eat before he went to the pitch for the first task.

* * *

"Where's Jack?" Draco asked as he sat down in the Great Hall. It was an obvious question because his sister, Abby, was sitting nearby with Dennis Creevey and some of the other first years.

Hermione smiled. "He'll be late to lunch. He's in the infirmary. Did you know he had a wand? Of course you did." Her smile faded. "You bought it for him."

"What did he do?" Draco asked.

Abby answered. "He did the Accio spell. But he forgot to catch it. The showoff."

"He's not letting you use the wand, then?"

Abby was happy she had someone she could express her anger to. "Only for the Lumos spell. And Floating Feather. YOU," she said accusingly, "said I had to wait until he got good at a spell."

She went back to eating her pizza.

Draco glanced at Hermione, expecting her to say something. "Whot? No remark?"

"Fine. I'll say something. At least you showed some discretion. We could have ended up with two children in the infirmary."

"Was that a compliment?"

"It's your big day. I wanted to keep your morale up."

Draco grabbed a slice of pizza and began eating. It was going to be an interesting day. Although he had no idea what he was facing. All he knew was that Ludo Bagman was too busy rearranging the first task to even consider dropping any hints. A quick question to Charlie Weasley over the weekend did not receive a direct answer, not that one was expected, but the man did reveal that the new task was still being designed. Charlie also said that he wouldn't be telling any secrets by saying that the first task would not be very difficult.

As he was thinking, Angelina Johnson came up to wish him luck, and asked if he had any ideas on what was going to happen. He had to honestly tell her no, but he would keep his ears open.

* * *

"Nervous?" Justin asked as they walked Draco to the tent where the Champions were to meet.

Draco smiled. "I don't know the meaning of the word."

Hermione retorted, "I'll give you a dictionary for Christmas."

"Good. Because I've got collywobbles and I have no idea what that means, either."

They walked up to the tent and Draco said goodbye to his friends. Justin and Hermione walked off to find seats in the stands. Draco pushed aside the flap and walked inside.

"He would finally show," The Minister said. He promptly turned away to talk to the other three champions, wishing them good luck and that sort of thing. Not that Draco cared. The Minister never struck him as the friendly type. And the man had no desire to be friendly to him.

Albus Dumbledore politely smiled, then he also turned to the other champions. Draco had the distinct impression it was not so much to snub the cheater but to keep an eye on the Minister. Draco turned and gave a polite smile of his own to Ludo Bagman. As the man was also the co-conspirator, it was no surprise that he smiled back. Nor that he quickly flashed three fingers as he knew no one was watching.

The person who did approach him and talk to him was Barty Crouch, Junior. As well as being the DADA teacher for the first three years, he was also Bagman's assistant. "Have you been keeping up on your lessons? Good grades are always important."

Draco eyed the man with annoyance. "I live for classes."

"That's the attitude. You will be last, so be prepared to be sitting here for a long time. Each of you is to be summoned by a whistle. Until then, each of you must remain inside the tent." He leaned forward. "And so no one can cheat, the tent is soundproof. Except for the whistle. And only the candidate whose turn it is can leave the tent."

"And you did that because of me?"

Barty shook his head. "No. That is the standard. I told you, personally, because it's you." He patted Draco's shoulder. "Just think about your lessons while you wait, and don't be afraid."

Before Draco could comment, he caught Bagman's look. If he understood that look correctly, the pair of cheaters was now a trio. And that comment was the only help they could give Draco in a crowded room.

"I will, Sir. Not be afraid, that is."

Barty smiled at him. Ludo Bagman, standing behind him was holding up one finger. He was also mouthing the word, troll. As the Minister turned around at that moment there was no chance for any more hints. Draco thought the first one was good enough. He had faced trolls before. As long as he kept his head, he would have no problems.

The Minister announced that the first task was to begin shortly. The whistle would be sounded as soon as they had taken their positions in the stands. He scowled at Draco, then led the group of adults from the tent.

Draco was smiling. Angelina said good luck to Draco. Fleur Delacour smiled at him and also wished him luck. Viktor Krum, the Dumstrang champion, looked at him with amusement. "Are you sure you did the vise thing, now?" he admonished.

"For One Thousand Galleons, yeah, I'm sure. Look, Victor," Draco said quickly, "I owe you, for the World Championship, but I don't know much. The First Task is in three parts, and the first part is a troll. And there's something about being afraid. I'm not too sure what that means."

Victor laughed. Angelina Johnson and Fleur Delacour both looked at him. Angelina demanding to know how Draco knew this when he didn't know anything at lunch. Draco explained that was why he was late. And if his informant had any more time "then this plucky lad could tell you the all of it."

"I vas right about you," Victor said, cheerfully. "You are vild card."

The whistle blew. Victor went toward the flap. Before he went out, he said, "I know vat to do vit' trolls."

"Trolls are easy, if you know what to do," Angelina said, more to herself than anyone else. He glanced at Draco. "I wonder why? Why a troll."

Draco smirked. In a drawling voice he answered. "I do have experience with trolls. Spent time in the infirmary after the first one."

Fleur, the Beaubatons champion, smiled at the thought that came to mind. "It iz perhaps to give you fear?"

"Naw. Knowing it's a troll makes me more confident. I think it means I'd better be worried about one of the other parts."

"I'll pay you back for the hint," Angelina said. "You have experience with trolls but did you ever fight one. Or have lessons on how to fight trolls."

The happy voice became hesitant. "No."

"Then you had better hope it knocks itself out with its own club, or you're never going to have a chance. They're impervious to magic. That means that none of your spells will work on it."

Draco swallowed hard. Trolls would be easy for a seventh year. All he had ever learned to do was avoid them. Angelina gave him a smug look. The whistle blew a second time. Fleur Delacour left the tent.

"No one talks to you, do they?" Angelina asked.

"They say things to me all the time but . . . no. Why?"

Angelina admitted that there was a rumour going around. That Cedric Diggory was better than her. That Draco cheated to give Gryffindor two champions. "I was wondering. How do I fight a rumour like that? Cedric even told me not to listen but . . . You're the expert. What should I do?"

"Crisp It," Draco replied. "'e's not the best," he said, unintentional anger in his voice, "The cup picked you. If."

He stopped speaking a little too quickly. Angelina, however, understood.

"You cunning little schemer. You only pretended to pick his pocket." She was smiling. "How did you do it? Who really put your name in?"

Draco smiled. "Can't tell ya. Professional secret." He leaned over and whispered. "I'll let you know everything I find out, I promise."

"Professional secret?" Angelina repeated, nodding his head. "Someone once told me that Professor Crouch never went anywhere in the Ministry because his father refused to show favoritism."

Draco took the hint and added his own. It might even have been true. "'eard that. Even 'eard he was top choice for a coupla jobs but his old man said no. Got ticked 'bout that."

The whistle blew once more. He was now alone in the tent, waiting. For all his bluster, it was time to show what he was made of. And he already knew how to get past a troll. As long as this one didn't kick him. He did think there was one thing he should have done differently. He should have brought his guitar. He would have had plenty of time to practice.

Finally, the whistle blew for the fourth champion. Draco would now find out what he faced. He raised the flap to the tent and stepped out.

The first thing he saw was a notice on a sign. It said, "Retrieve the silver chalice." It was a nice and simple way of letting him know what his goal was. He looked past the sign. The stands on all sides were packed, not only with students but also with plenty of visitors.

Ahead of him, some twenty meters, stood the troll. A stone wall was built on either side of him leaving a space only an opening slightly larger than the troll who stood at the end. They rose as high as the troll's waist. Walking closer to it, Draco kept his eyes on the club. He waited until he was just out of range and shouted to make sure the troll saw him, stepping back quickly as the troll began to swing its club. He had noticed something else. The troll had a metal collar around its leg. The collar was attached to a heavy chain. The chain was embedded in the stone wall.

The troll swung its club but Draco was out of range. He still needed to decide what to do. Climbing over the wall seemed like a better idea. Wisdom told him first to check to see if there was a trick. And convenience gave him a rock of sufficient size to try. He might make it past the troll by going over one of the wall, but something else could be beyond the walls. And so, he threw the stone.

The wall, below where the stone would pass over, suddenly grew to a sufficient height. The stone hit the wall and bounced off. There was nothing on the other side of the wall. The wall itself was the trick. To pass, Draco had to get by the troll.

Draco tried his wand. He couldn't stun the troll but maybe he could bind it. "IMPEDIMENTIA."

Ropes flew out of the wand and wrapped themselves around the troll, binding it tight. For two seconds. Then it roared angrily and snapped the ropes. To express itself more clearly, it swung its club against the stone walls and lurched forward. The walls smashed themselves to bits then obligingly reformed themselves.

Draco stared.

The troll was still lurching forward. When it smashed the wall, the imbedded chain came free. It was now coming for him. Draco took a deep breath as he prepared to take his chance at running past it. The chain would make it that more dangerous but he had no choice. He remembered what Angelina said and he didn't expect the troll to knock itself out. And Draco would need a club as big as the one the troll had if he wanted to do it himself. Not that he would be able to lift the club, much less reach the troll's head. He'd have to float himself up in the air in order to do that.

"Right!" Draco shouted to himself. It might not work but it was worth a try. He held up his wand and began yelling at the troll as he quickly ran withing range. The troll howled and raised its club. And Draco shouted, "Lignum Leviosa".

It was comical as the troll swung his empty hand down, then looked at its hand in amazement. It gave Draco a puzzled look and noticed that Draco was looking above it. The troll looked up. Draco released the spell. The club came down with a loud THUNK. It fell against the wall, which rose up to knock it back. It then landed on a spot that Draco had hastily backed away from. And Draco was still backing away. The troll was now falling as well. Then Draco stopped backing up. He was against the tent. And the troll was close.

The troll fell forward. Its head hit the ground almost at Draco's feet. But Draco was falling backward. The troll's arms were stretched out in front of him. They landed on either side of Draco, completely smashing the tent he was leaning against. As the canvas fell away, so did Draco.

"Bloody Hell," Draco said to himself. He could hear a mixture of applause and laughter as he stood up. Picking up his wand, he stepped off the downed tent and onto the downed troll. Continuing on, he reached the end of the path and stepped forward to meet his next task. He was in a small courtyard with only a cabinet on the other side by the exit. It was a cabinet he recognized from defense class. The one with the boggart in it. The boggart which Hermione had told him about. From one of the classes he deliberately missed. The one that Professor Lupin promised to let Draco test himself on, but never had the chance. The reason it was here was obvious.

They did it for me, Draco was thinking. The third part was probably the only difficult part. These first two were here to put the cocky boy in his place. Boggarts are easy if you have experience. And they knew Draco had missed his chance for that.

There was no more time to think. The doors to the cupboard were opening. The boggart would come out in a form that reflected Draco's worst fear. He would have to control his fear, think of turning it into something funny and cast the spell, whatever that was.

Draco waited, his wand drawn. A man was stepping out of the cabinet. And the look on his face said he disapproved of Draco. The boy had seen that look many times before. But not on this face. It was the face of Lucius Malfoy.

"Father?" Draco said, half forgetting what it was he was confronting. "Father?"

Lucius Malfoy stood there. An adult image of his son, but for the eyes and the pale blondness if his hair. It made a sharp contrast in the sunlight. It shone like ivory while Draco's hair was almost golden. But the look. Not anger. Disappointment.

Draco stared. A part of him kept saying it wasn't real. The rest of him wasn't listening. The rest of him was watching his father. Watching his father walk slowly toward him. And wondering. What did I do? What did I fail to do? What should I do?

Lucius Malfoy stood before his son. And Draco dropped to his knees and buried his head in his hands. He was on the verge of tears. He wanted to beg forgiveness. He wanted to beg his father to tell him what he had done.

A small voice reminded him it was not his father.

Draco looked up. It was his father. And his look had not change. It radiated disappointment.

The small voice said it was not his father.

Draco dropped his eyes into his hands, again. He could not bear to look at his father. Knowing how his father felt about him.

The small voice pleaded. It is not your father.

A voice from his subconscious spoke. Justin's voice. "Draco, do you have any relatives that are actually related to you?"

Draco snorted.

Draco looked up. He began snickering.

Lucius Malfoy did the impossible. He managed to look even more disappointed. Draco openly laughed. His father was not related to him. The idea seemed so funny. All he needed now was Casper to walk up and call him cousin.

Sensing what Draco was thinking, the boggart changed. It became Casper. Draco howled. The boggart was started changing. To Hermione. To Madam Pomfrey. To Professor McGonagall. To Albus Dumbledore. To Janice.

Draco kept laughing. He couldn't stop. It was worse than if someone were deliberately tickling him. He couldn't stop. It was too funny.

It became Alastor Moody.

It was like turning a switch. The humour was gone. But the fear did not return. Instead, it was annoyance. And a desire to return the favour. The boggart was able to look into a person's mind and find what it most feared. All he had to do was figure out what the boggart most feared. One thing he knew. It could sense what he was thinking.

Draco raised his wand and pointed it. He knew a curse that could cause pain. And he kept thinking how angry he was that he would use it. He would find out how much a boggart liked pain.

"OOF."

Draco looked up from where he now lay on the ground. It was as though a powerful gust of wind had suddenly blown him over onto his back. He was looking for the boggart.

The cabinet was there. The doors open. It was empty. He spun around onto his stomach and began picking himself off the ground. As he looked around, he saw no one. He saw no thing. It was as though the creature had disappeared.

He smiled. It had worked. Draco knew how he would explain it later. He found the form the creature had taken to be so funny, he couldn't think of a form to turn it into. So he tried the next best thing. He tried to make it afraid. And it worked. The boggart ran away.

Casting one last glance at the cupboard as he went past, Draco stepped out of the courtyard and walked into the arena proper. He did not notice that no one was applauding.

It was a wide-open area he was walking across. Almost three quarters the size of the Quidditch pitch. Directly ahead of him, about two thirds of the way, was the Silver Chalice he was supposed to take, sitting on a low pedestal. Off to one side, and coming toward him, was a spider. A big spider. And it was moving fast now that it spotted him. And this time, Draco wasn't worried. He knew exactly what to do.

The spider kept getting bigger. When it was close, Draco made a guess that it was slightly larger than Hagrid's hut. But the spell he was planning to use would be more than good enough. He had an affinity for fire spells. And although personal difficulties made it necessary to become proficient at shielding spells, he had a different one in mind. One he had practiced

He pointed his wand and screamed.

Three things happened. A rush of fire flew forward from the wand. A large spider, running at high speed was suddenly jumping to one side and trying to stop itself. Lastly, a familiar voice was heard shouting from the stands. And the word it shouted was, "NOOOOOOO!"

"Crisp it," Draco cursed as he recognized the voice. He cancelled the spell but held ready as he waited to see what the spider would do. The giant spider was staring at him. With multiple eyes.

"Sorry 'bout that," Draco said with as much regret as he could manage. "Din't know you were a friend of 'agrid." He remembered being awaken one night by two men. They had been to the Forbidden Forest. On a hunch he asked, "You Aragog by any chance?"

The spider started moving forward, slowly. "I am," it said. "I was surprised. I was assured I would not be harmed if I harmed no one."

"They shoulda tol' me. Woulda t'ought more 'fore I did anythin'." He paused. "Whot?"

"I did not understand what you said. Could you repeat it in English?"

Draco had the impression he had just been insulted.

"I apologize," he said in his fancy voice, "No one explained the rules to me, except that I need to reach that big cup over there. Otherwise, I would have taken more care in choosing which spell to cast." He paused and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess they forgot. I'm not known for following the rules, anyway."

"Your apology is accepted. And now I must ask to bite you."

Draco's wand was still up. And his voice was angry. "I'll give you a mouth full of fire, uh, mandible full of fire if you try that. Friend or no friend, I won't be bitten." It was a bluff, but Draco knew he had to try. The spider was being polite, but it was still doing the task assigned. And that task was to stop Draco.

"You are forbidden to hurt me," the spider said.

"And I told you. I don't always play by the rules." Draco was angry. He didn't want to be bitten. And he knew that hundreds of people were watching him argue with a spider. "Look, they want me to lose. If you try to bite me, I will use the flame spell. We both lose. If you don't try to bite me, you stay in one piece and I walk away and claim that cup. We both win." He began backing away. "Take your time to decide what you want to do. I need to be going, thank you very much." He paused. "I'm Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy."

"And I accept your suggestion that we both win, Draco Malfoy." A pause. "And I accept your logic despite my certainty that you will not follow through with what you say you will do. You can stop me, therefore you have. I will do nothing to prevent you from gaining the cup."

"Uh, thanks."

"I will tell Hagrid he has an interesting friend."

Draco had the distinct feeling he had been insulted again. The spider was going to let him win, just because he found Hagrid's friend to be interesting. To make matters worse, the spider did not stay where it was but even walked past Draco to go back to its resting spot.

Walked right past me, Draco fumed, like it couldn't be bothered. It's not a problem. You're that amusing friend of Hagrid's. "Lucky you're not a crab," Draco muttered to himself, "else we'd be having seafood for dinner."

With a careless swipe of his hand, he grabbed the chalice off the pedestal it was on and continued walking to the exit. Now the embarrassing part would begin. He would have to explain what happened. He finished the task because someone with eight legs decided to be nice to him.

* * *

Entering the tent at the other end of the arena was not what Draco expected. The other champions were not there. The Minister was, as well as the headmaster. Dumbledore directed him to see Madam Pomfrey first. She was through the door that he pointed to. In a makeshift infirmary.

"Are you hurt in any way?" She asked as soon as he walked through the door.

"Only my ego."

"This is not a joke." Her anger was evident, although the reason was not.

"NO. I am not hurt."

"That's one small blessing. Although you do have much to answer for. Why can't you follow the rules? The Minister is furious."

"WHAT RULES?" Draco shouted. "AND THE MINISTER'S ALREADY MAD AT ME."

"Could you please be quiet?" Angelina Johnson said from a nearby bed.

Draco looked and saw all three champions. Viktor Krum, at the far end, looked fine. Fleur Delacour looked like she was almost fine. Angelina looked like she would recover. Draco gave Madam Pomfrey a questioning look. She answered it.

"You've probably guessed that the first two parts were made especially for you. The third part was supposed to be a challenge. One that couldn't be won. The challenge was to see how well you handled yourself."

"Yeah, Aragog told me about that. But no one told me about the rules before I left the tent."

Madam Pomfrey would have none of his attitude. "The rules were posted outside the tent."

Draco laughed. "You mean about retrieving the chalice? I followed it. See." He held up the cup in his hand.

"The other one," Pomfrey fumed.

"What other one?" Draco convinced himself this must be some kind of joke. "That was the only thing posted." He hesitated. "Was there a second sign?"

Now it was Madam Pomfrey's turn to hesitate. "No. Only one sign. With two rules, one above the other."

"One sign. One rule."

"One sign, two rules." Angelina said, leaning up on her elbows.

"Dat is right," Viktor confirmed. Fleur was nodding her head.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Draco carefully. She turned to the other champions. "Could someone fetch Charlie Weasley for me? I have something I need him to do." She turned back to Draco as the French girl quickly left the room. "Expect a few surprises." She held up her finger. "The one thing you shouldn't be surprised about is that the few friends you have are now fewer."

Draco nodded. He was about to be blamed for something. He had better be ready for it.

"What should I do?"

Madam Pomfrey pointed to the other end of the tent. "Once Miss Delacour returns, join the rest of the Champions. I'll personally inform Dumbledore once Charlie gets back to me."

Angelina was already sitting up by the time Charlie left to examine the troll. Hagrid had come with him to the infirmary and left with him to help. Madam Pomfrey then waited. She took as much time as she could before letting them leave. When she opened the door and looked out, she smiled, then looked back at Draco and nodded. As Draco left, he saw Charlie Weasley and Albus Dumbledore talking. Neither man looked up. Hagrid, standing behind them, gave a nod of his head. Draco followed the rest of the champions up a wooden stair which led to a platform. From the platform, there was a clear view of the entire arena. Professor Karkoroff greeted his student warmly, although Viktor Krum looked like he could care less. Madame Maxime embraced Fleur Delacour and said something in French. Professor McGonagall was there for Angelina. She initially scowled at Draco, but her look became one of shock as Angelina told her about the sign. Doctor McCudgeon was more concerned about what Angelina was saying to pay any immediate attention to Draco. When she did, she told him it was no more than she should have expected.

Draco started to ask her a question but another voice could be heard. Ludo Bagman, using a charm to amplify his voice, was announcing the scores. Victor Krum was awarded 45 points. There was a loud cheer from the section where most of that schools students were sitting. Fleur Delacour was next. She also received 45 points. This time Beaubatons was the source of the loudest cheers. Angelina looked nervous when her name was called out. She then smiled when Bagman announced she had been awarded 50 points. The smile grew as the Hogwarts students, the largest group there, began shouting their approval. As the applause waned, Bagman announced the last name. Draco Malfoy. Zero points. The small amount of applause was mean-spirited.

"I guess the Minister hadn't heard," Draco quipped.

"I don't think he cares," Doctor McCudgeon replied. "We need to talk anyway, once we have a chance."

* * *

They were gathered in the makeshift infirmary, again The four champions, the four representatives of the competing schools, Ludo Bagman, Albus, Dumbledore, Barty Crouch, Junior, and Crouch Senior, the Minister for Magic. Also present, but not part of the group, was Madam Pomfrey and Charlie Weasley.

Crouch, Junior, explained that the chalice that each contestant held was also a clue to the next task. Part of that task was to find the clue. The champions were encouraged to help each other in this and to report, honestly, on their progress. He concluded his brief explanation by asking if there were any questions.

Draco raised his hand. He was angry. Barty asked what his question was.

"Why was I set up? Because I was too clever?"

"Set up?"

"Oh, sorry. Not used to the phrase? I'll explain."

"MALFOY!" It was the Minister. Angry. "You do not need to explain anything."

Draco didn't care. "Then the troll broke free for everyone else? Or was the sign changed for everyone else as well? Was it all a clever excuse to make sure I lost?"

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "Minister. Charlie Weasley took Rubeus Hagrid with him to see after the troll. I asked them to examine the sign. As the troll landed on top of it, the sign was still untouched."

Madam Maxime answered. "Zat iz good. We know one accusation iz correct." She glanced at the Minister, then at Dumbledore. "Because eet iz correct, I will want to change my score."

Dumbledore nodded. "You are right about that. Mister Malfoy should not be penalized because he was not informed of all the rules. However, there is the matter of the boggart."

Draco snorted. "Do you mean you can't find it? It couldn't have run too far."

"Unbelievable," the Minister uttered. "Do you honestly think that you scared it off?"

Draco hesitated. Dumbledore's face held no anger when he looked at him. It held pity. "You destroyed it, Mister Malfoy."

Draco was then asked what he had done. He explained how he had imagined causing it pain. Since it was reading his mind, he decided to try something.

"I only meant to scare it?"

The Minister laughed. "By silently casting the Cruciatus Curse? I know about your secret lessons. I didn't know they were so well advanced."

"Whot?"

Angelina Johnson felt she had to help Draco understand. She explained that they were taught to sub-vocalize spells in their sixth year. When Draco claimed that no one taught him to do that, the Minister sneered, saying he must have learned it on his own. When Draco tried to respond to the remark, he was cut off.

The Minister smiled with a grim pleasure. "With this last revelation, I've decided to put an end to the charade. Draco Malfoy, by my authority as Minister for Magic, you are hereby expelled." He stepped forward and grabbed the silver chalice from Draco's hand. "You may leave."

Despite the protest from Dumbledore, the Minister insisted that Draco be gone before any further discussion was held. Amid the mixed looks he received from the others, he departed the tent. This time, instead of walking up the stairs he stepped past them and walked behind the stands toward the exit.

He expected Justin and Hermione to be there. That Will and Casper had joined them was a surprise. That Hagrid was waiting was also a surprise but it shouldn't have been. And the giant was explaining something to the others. All looked at him anxiously. He decided to tell them at once.

"I've been expelled. Again."

Everyone began objecting that it was wrong, which made Draco feel better. Then Hermione asked why Dumbledore expelled him. If it was because of the sign. He told them he was expelled by the Minister, himself. That was when William Potter smiled.

"That's great." William smirked when everyone stared at him. "I mean, the Rite."

"The what?" Justin and Draco managed to ask this question at the same time.

"Of course," Hermione said, then gave Will a surprised look. "I didn't know you read 'Hogwarts, a History'."

"Didn't. I had to do a history paper. The person I chose went through the Rite."

"Well done, anyway." Hermione was still smiling. She insisted they wait. It shouldn't be too long. Ten minutes later, her eyes gleamed as she saw that people were approaching. She said to Draco, "let me handle this."

"Sure." He watched as she walked past him. Hermione walked directly up to the Minister. And shouted. "As The Legal Representative Of Draco Malfoy, I Claim The Rite Of Inclusion."

The Minister scoffed. "Fine. We'll hold the Rite before the evening meal." Draco noticed that while the Minister was laughing, Dumbledore made it a point to pat Hermione's shoulder as though to congratulate her. As she walked past, Madam Pomfrey stopped to give her a hug.

The Minister made it a point to sneer once more as he walked past Draco. Dumbledore merely smiled, as did Madam Maxime. Victor Krum wished him good luck with whatever the Rite was. Fleur Delacour did the same. Angelina simple shook his head as though it was all a joke.

"That's one smart girl," Madam Pomfrey said as she stopped to talk. "And all of you had better get busy. You do know what you have to do?"

"I'll explain it," Will offered, and left quickly with Justin and Casper.

"I'll pass the word to the other teachers," Hagrid offered and quickly followed the Hufflepuffs.

"Let me tell you that you were right, Draco," Pomfrey told him. "The sign you told us about. It was changed. The rule about not harming any of the creatures had been erased." She nodded toward Hermione who was talking with Charlie Weasley. "They found it, exactly as you said, when they moved the troll."

"Is the troll dead?"

A snort. "From being hit in the head? Not likely." She squeezed his cheek, mostly because he didn't like it. "And good luck."

Draco walked up to Hermione to thank her. She paused, looking at the Weasley standing next to her.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I was explaining to . . . Charlie what the Rite of Inclusion is."

"Good. I'd like to know, too."

Doctor McCudgeon stepped out of the shadows. "Make that three of us."

Hermione assumed her lecturing tone. "The Rite of Inclusion was started about eight hundred years ago. And it's only been invoked six times. Well, Seven, now that I invoked it. If any student is expelled by anyone other than the Headmaster or acting Headmaster, that student, through his legal representative, can invoke the Rite." She paused. "You should know, it was only successful once. The other five were still expelled."

"My chances aren't good. I can live with that. But what is this Rite?"

"It 's fairly simple. First they ask all the teachers if you should be permitted to stay. If any of them say no, then you're expelled. But if all of them say yes, they poll the staff, the ghosts, then the students."

Draco's eyes asked the question. Hermione nodded. The poll of students also had to be unanimous.

"I'll start packing."


	17. The Rite of Inclusion

A/N: Here is the next chapter in the exciting life and times of . . .

Of course it's exciting. Who wants to read about someone who is dull and boring.

How many of you out there said to yourselves, I'm going to read about Millard Fillmore, instead. How many of you have heard of Millard Fillmore, a former president of the United States? It was during his administration that the Post Office came out with the perforated postage stamp.

Chapter 17: The Rite of Inclusion

It was Rodolphus Lestrange who walked Draco back to Hogwarts. He assured the boy that he was correct. The Minister had a hand in the sabotage of the sign, although it would be very difficult to prove. His best guess was a timed vanishing spell. The second rule on the sign simply disappeared when the whistle blew the fourth time. No one would dare suggest the Minister examine his own wand. Nor was such a petty action against the man's morals. If the Minister was convinced he was right, then whatever he did was appropriate.

Draco agreed with his godfather. It would be best for the school, the ministry and the Minister for Magic to remove such a reckless child as himself.

"Will it work? The Rite of Inclusion?" Draco asked.

"Dumbledore disapproves," Rodolphus answered. "I wouldn't worry too much about the teachers or the staff. I would worry about the students. You have several enemies, even in your own house." He then muttered, "those damned witches."

"Why them?"

"Why indeed." His voice held anger and frustration. "They went to the trouble to create that clever little plan to keep the Minister at bay, then they throw it all away at the last minute. And they were not quiet. They boasted about it."

Both fell silent as they neared the school. Too many students were close by as they neared the main doors. Once inside, Draco was steered up the staircase and down a hall, into the first deserted classroom they came to. Rodolphus sighed.

"It was a good run, Draco, but I think we must prepare for the worst. You will be expelled. That is guaranteed. I will talk to Madame Maxime. I know she was upset about the tampering with the sign. She might be willing to take you in as a student. I'll also talk to Karkaroff. He's a bloody coward but I might be able to threaten him enough . . ."

Draco smiled at what his godfather was saying. First, make sure he had another school to go to. Otherwise, he could end up as the victim of another of the Minister's schemes. But when the man stopped talking, Draco felt his shackles rise. Something was wrong.

Rodolphus Lestrange suddenly had his wand in his hand. The door to the classroom slammed shut as he waved the wand. The windows, already closed, locked themselves. And his face was red with anger as he began to speak.

"I know you're here, you bitch. Show yourself or I'll fumigate the entire room and be done with you."

As Draco watched, a small bug, a beetle from the look of it, flew off the wall toward them. As it neared, it grew larger and changed shape. In an instant, Rita Skeeter was there. She was smiling. Draco hid his surprise. The reporter was an animagus, probably illegal. And his godfather knew it.

"Rudy, that wasn't a nice threat to make. And after all the good times we've had together."

"I meant it, though. I will not be spied upon. It's bad enough that I'm constantly watched by the teachers at this school, but I will not play the fool for the press."

"You? Why would I be interested in you? Not until your brother shows up. I wanted to get the honest reactions of a poor student set upon by unfair trials." She paused. "I like that line. I will have to work it into my next story."

Draco smiled. "I am truly heartbroken by the mean tricks that were played on me."

"That won't do. I wish I had my quill with me." She smiled at Rodolphus. "Why don't I change that to 'I am truly heartbroken by the cruelties thrust at me by an uncaring world'?"

Rodolphus growled. "Write whatever you like but keep my name out of it. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Rudy. And I never intended to mention you at all. It might make people think Draco was not the innocent I want to show him as. The poor, misunderstood boy, shunted aside as he tries to find his way in an uncaring world." She paused again. "I do wish I had my quill with me. That was absolutely inspiring. I can't use both of them though. Too much uncaring." She looked at Draco. "Never use a clever word twice in one article. It's still a good quote."

"Quote?" Draco asked.

"You have a wonderful way with words, my boy. At least, you will. Once I'm done writing my article." She smiled at Rodolphus. "I even found you, alone, in a deserted classroom, crying about what happened to you."

"I ain't cryin'."

"You're bawling your eyes out," she said testily. "You'll have the readers' sympathy by the end of the first paragraph. I promise. I'll even have them crying as I describe you leaving the Great Hall for the last time, afraid of what will become of you now that you are alone in the world with no place to call home."

Rodolphus was smiling again. "You are good, Rita. Will you write the story before or after the Rite?"

"Before. Once Draco is thrown out, I speed the article to Prophet. They might even put out a special addition, although I think that would be wishful thinking on my part."

"Hadn't you better get started?" Rodolphus asked.

Rita put her hand lovingly on his arm. "There's plenty of time, dear. And Draco might say something worthwhile if I talk to him, now that I can't listen in." She turned to Draco again. "You do know how to keep a secret, darling, about the beetle thing. It would ruin my career. And any chance of you ever having the truth told about your sad life."

"Sure, no problem. Did you know my godfather, before he went . . . away?"

The gold teeth flashed as she smiled. "More than I care to tell you. And keep that under wraps as well."

"My lips are sealed."

"So, Beaubatons or Durmstrang?"

Rodolphus Lestrange walked over to the desk and sat on it. They way he gestured, and his bemused smile told Draco to go ahead with the interview.

"Hard choice," Draco answered. "I was born in France but I'm sort of friends with Viktor Krum. "

Rita gazed upward. "Go with Durmstrang. The moral support that Viktor Krum has given is more than I ever received at Hogwarts. I do hope I can remember all these good lines."

"Can I ask what you're going to say about the Minister?"

"Oh, nothing. I learned long ago that if I can't praise the man then I'd better not mention him at all. Especially when I write about you. Do you know, I didn't think it was possible for him to hate you more than he did when you entered the tournament. Then I had to revise that to when you returned from the Hebrides with that dragon. (That was a beautiful article. I may even win an award for it.) But when you managed to take that cute silver cup . . . He was absolutely livid." She leaned forward to look Draco in the eye. "I am curious, though. For my own sake. Whatever were you talking about to that spider? The conversation seemed to last forever."

"Um. 'e's a frien' of Hagrid. Jus' bein' sociable."

"Really?" She stood up and held out her hand to Draco. As they shook, she told him to have a good life. She blew Rodolphus a kiss. "I'll see my way out, dear."

As the door closed, Draco watched his godfather laugh.

"That woman is amazing, Draco. She would never even think to curse or hex anyone, but she's destroyed more men with that quill of hers than I have with my wand." He smiled wistfully at the door, then shrugged his shoulders. "That reminds me to ask, have you seen the American witches much?"

"Well, they were always around, looking things over, until the dragon left." Draco understood what his godfather meant. For the first few days, the witches were always there. Professor Duracam even suggested the means to convince the dragon to return home. Since that time, the Professor had rarely been seen. Professor Adrem was frequently in the library, but rarely talked to anyone unless they approached her. And Doctor McCudgeon was seen at the meals but hardly ever made an appearance elsewhere. The exception was when they discussed how to juggle the Minister's desire that they take Draco with the fact Draco did not want to leave. "The Doctor said we should talk."

"When?" Rodolphus clarified his question. "When did she say that?"

"When we were on the platform, at the end of the first task. That was all she said."

"Make sure I am there," Rodolphus commanded. He looked at his watch. "It's almost time, boy. Shall we go to your execution?"

* * *

The Great Hall was crowded, especially the teacher's table as every teacher was there. And every ghost, including Peeves, had appeared. When Draco asked if all the ghosts were included, not just the house ghosts, he was told yes. Draco asked about the portraits. Hermione asked him if was serious. The ghosts were being included because of Professor Binns. She also assured him not to worry. She had a speech prepared when it was the students' turn, if they made it that far.

As soon as Argus Filch closed the doors to the Great Hall, Bartemius Crouch began his explanation. A student had, by his order, been expelled from Hogwarts. There was, however, a small complication. As he was the Minister and not the Headmaster, the expulsion could be contested. He noted that this contestation was known by the name of 'The Rite of Inclusion'. The details of the Rite were simple. Everyone in the school, teacher, student, staff and ghost, had to agree to let the student stay.

Albus Dumbledore stood up as the Minister finished. He explained that, in the interest of fairness, anyone could make a statement as to why they made their particular choice. All statements must refer to the defendant, Draco Malfoy.

"A waste of time," the Minister muttered. He paused as the sentence was heard throughout the hall. There were pockets of laughter as well as a few remarks that the Minister was right. Hermione whispered to Draco that the acoustics had been enhanced so that anyone could be heard throughout the hall without having to shout. She then blushed furiously as Dumbledore, from the front of the Great Hall told her she was correct and that was why everyone should remain silent.

The Minister called for Draco to come up to the front of the hall to stand with him and the headmaster. Draco did, and was given his place. Then the polling of the teachers began. Most of the teachers simply said yes, that Malfoy should stay. The first statement was made by Professor Binns, who was a ghost, having died several years earlier and never noticed.

"I assume we are talking about . . ." He looked around. "No, He's over there, sitting with the Gryffindors. Oh, it's you. Yes, you have my permission to leave."

"But I want to stay," Draco exclaimed before anyone could stop him.

"If you're feeling better, then stay. You should make up your mind before you ask these things. You are spending too much time with that Perkins boy. You are picking up his bad habits, Mister Malfoy."

"Sorry, Sir. I will try to do better."

Professor Crouch made the second statement. He explained that he was voting yes because of his close relationship with the Minister. Should his be the only no vote, then it would appear to be a fixed matter.

It was a small pleasure for Draco that the Minister was annoyed by the statement.

The third person to comment was Igor Karkaroff, the headmaster for Durmstrang. His remark reflected that of Professor Crouch. He would not pass judgement because he was only a guest at the school. But since circumstances demand that he cast a vote, he would vote yes, leaving the final choice in someone else's hands. Madam Maxime made the same statement when she was asked.

Professor McCudgeon smiled when her name was called. "Barty, I wouldn't take him off your hands before, why should I change my mind now. I say he should stay here."

Professor Adrem smiled and said, "Since he can't come to our school, I agree he should stay here." (Since he cayn't come to are school, ah agree he should stay hee-uh.)

Professor Lestrange was next. He commented that while he had many personal reasons to want his godson to stay, he was voting yes simply because the Minister didn't want him to. He was smiling.

It surprised Draco that Remus Lupin would comment as he was another of Harry Potter's Uncles. He explained that his student had successfully met every challenge in the contest so far. That included the challenge of the age barrier. He should not be expelled because he was too successful. Professor McGonagall enlarged upon this statement by pointing out the services that Draco had already performed for the school. Twice, he defended it from attacks by Voldemort.

Draco couldn't help himself. He told the Minister, "She means You-Know-Who."

McGonagall glared at him until the laughter died down. "Despite a strong desire to change my mind, I'm voting yes."

The polling continued smoothly. Each teacher said yes. Until the Minister asked Professor Trelawney. She was holding a tarot card in her hand.

"Do you see? It's the hanged man."

"That is interesting," the Minister said, "but what does it have to do with your decision."

"It's the sign of death. If I vote then Draco Malfoy will die."

"Then by all means vote," the Minister said. "Since he will die either way, there is no reason to keep the rest of us standing around."

Professor Trelawney smiled. "That's it. The rest of us." She pulled a deck of cards out of a sleeve and cast them face down on the table in front of her. She then moaned briefly as she waved her upper body about. Professor McGonagall aided her attempt at meditation by muttering, "for Merlin's sake."

Ignoring the laughter, the Divination Professor waved her hands over the cards. She carefully selected one, pulled it out and looked at it. She then screamed, throwing the card back onto the table. As she gathered all the cards together and began shuffling them, Trelawney apologized to the Minister, explaining that her inner eye demands she examine both possibilities. She cast the cards on the table and repeated her earlier motions. When she was done, she reached down and picked up a card at random. As she had done the previous time, she screamed and threw the card back on the table. One of the teachers behind her, Professor Sinistra, whispered to the professor next to her that it was the same card.

Trelawney gathered up the cards again and thrust them up her sleeve. She turned around, running toward a back door as she called out, "Let him stay. Let him stay."

One of the students was heard to remark, "Let her go. Let her go."

Finally, they came to the last teacher, Professor Vector. She made it a point to deliberately smile at Draco. "Of course he can stay. If for no other reason than he makes life interesting."

Draco smiled. But only for a second. The Minister began polling the staff. Argus Filch smiled and said yes. Draco did expect that vote. Filch still made it a point to make sure Walburga Black's portrait was being properly taken care of. Hagrid also voted yes, and gave Draco another thumbs up. So did all the other staff members. Madam Pomfrey made it a point to say "most definitively, yes." Her look was one of disgust at the Minister.

Draco knew why she had that look. She was aware of certain irregularities in the first task. Such as the erased sign and the troll getting loose. And because of all the times she had Draco in the infirmary, she took these affronts personally.

The Minister did not seem too surprised at the results. He knew that Dumbledore disapproved and that the teachers and staff were likely to follow their headmaster. He expected the same from the ghosts. Nor were there any surprises. The Grey Lady, house ghost for Ravenclaw, approached the Minister after the last staff member had been polled. She paused to curtsey to Draco, who bowed in return, saying softly, "My Lady."

Fred Weasley's voice could be heard saying, "Myrtle's going to be jealous."

"Am not," Myrtle said from across the hall. "We both know he's only being polite."

"Please," the Grey Lady said, although there was amusement in her voice.

"Something other boys should try," Myrtle commented to a fair amount of laughter.

"A simple suggestion, Minister," the Grey Lady said. "Rather than ask every ghost, as we are all present, merely insist that any one of us that wishes Draco Malfoy to leave has merely to stay. And each is free to make his or her own choice." It was noticed that the Lady was looking at the Baron, Slytherin's house ghost. It was known that the Baron was the only one who could control Peeves. The proof was that Peeves had been quiet the entire time he was in the Great Hall.

"A simple suggesting, and well thought out," The Minister acknowledged. He made the official announcement and watched as every ghost withdrew from the hall. Sir Nicholas made it a point to wish Draco luck. And Myrtle embarrassed Draco by throwing him a kiss. Only Peeves was left. And he was smiling.

"It looks like there is a no vote," the Minister said smugly.

"He's not a ghost," Draco said in his own defense.

"The boy is correct, Minister," Dumbledore admonished. "Peeves is a poltergeist. He must still be polled."

"Peeves," the Minister called angrily. "Should the boy stay? Yes or No?"

Peeves laughed as he began flying around the hall "The choice is now in the hands of Peeves. Deciding whether Draco leaves." He paused to make a low pass over the Ravenclaw table, forcing several students to duck. He stopped his flying as he reached the end of the table and faced Draco. "If he lets Malfoy stay, He can annoy him any day. Peeves decides to do something sinister. He'll leave this hall and annoy the Minister." He flew around the Great Hall, laughing and shouting in a mocking tone, "Let him stay. Let him stay."

To everyone's relief, he left. Draco smiled. All he needed now was to convince three hundred plus students. Hermione would help by giving one of her famous speeches. Not that she'd ever addressed the entire student body before. Usually they were given to him and Justin.

"We will do this the easy way," Minister Crouch said as he addressed the students. "I want all of you to rise. Anyone who wants Mister Malfoy to stay has only to sit down. And anyone who wishes to make a statement has only to speak up. And be courteous." He motioned with his hands. "Please stand."

As all the students rose, the Minister gave a smile. "Any student who wishes Mister Malfoy to stay may now sit down."

A loud thump was heard at the Slytherin table. Victor Krum had sat down as forcefully as possible. The rest of the Durmstrang students were following suite. At the Ravenclaw table, the Beaubatons students were also sitting down. On the other side of the Hall, barely half of the Gryffindors were returning to their seats. As it were, most of the Slytherins were still standing. The same was true of Ravenclaw. At least half of Hufflepuff were still on their feet. At the Gryffindor table, Hermione was standing because she wanted to speak. Potter was also standing, although he was keeping his eyes down.

"I call the first speech," Theodore Nott said from the far end of the hall. The spell was still working and it sounded as though the Slytherin stood close by. "I know Hermione Granger wanted to be the first to extol the virtues of Draco Malfoy but . . . that is too bad. He is my cousin and I do believe I know him better than any Gryffindor."

"Let me begin by telling everyone why I like him. It is common knowledge that he killed my brother last year. Which was a relief for me because I no longer had to stop my brother from trying to kill him." He paused. "I know. I'm supposed to love my brother. But that does not mean I should let him become a murderer because he wants to. Remember, once he succeeded, he would have turned his eyes elsewhere, to any one of you. I wish it were otherwise, but his death was a good thing. And I have my cousin to thank for it." He smiled. "But that was a necessity, not a virtue. Let me extol the virtues of Draco Malfoy. First: His honesty."

Even Draco laughed. He never even called himself honest. Not seriously. He waited, like everyone else, to hear the rest of the joke.

"Was that funny?" Theodore asked with a mocking frown. "He IS an honest young man. At least when you compare him to the rest of the champions." Theodore's face was one of disgust. He looked at Angelina Johnson and mouthed, 'yes, you.' Then he held out a hand and pointed at her.

"Ask that Gryffindor, Johnson. She'll tell you. She is involved in this competition not only for herself but to uphold the dignity and honour of Hogwarts. Durmstrang and Beaubatons make the same claims. HONOR. DIGNITY. PRIDE," Theodore trumpeted each of these words, mouthing his contempt. "And why did Malfoy enter this contest?" Both hands were held up to emphasis the question. And the answer. "MONEY! ONE THOUSAND GALLEONS TO THE WINNER."

Nott laughed at the reaction he received. "Be honest to yourselves. How many students would have wanted to compete if the prize was a nice . . . brass . . . plaque." He walked back to his seat saying he had been standing too long. As he sat down, over half of Slytherin joined him. Slowly, the others at their table sat down as well. The last few sat down if for no other reason than that everyone else in their house did. A few more sat down at the other tables as well.

After a pause, Hermione began to speak. "As most of you know . . ."

"Granger," Cedric Diggory interrupted. "I'm sure you have a great speech prepared, but do you really think it will work. We're not dealing with reason here. Almost everyone here hates Malfoy. That's a fact. That's even why the Minister wants to expel him. No one cares what he did or didn't do. His last name is Malfoy. And for most of us that is enough of a reason to want him thrown out. People want an emotional reason to let him stay. All it takes for him to go is one person, and there are over thirty of us at Hufflepuff still standing. More than that in Ravenclaw. You're in Gryffindor. His house, and there are at least twenty students besides you that are still standing. You won't convince anyone with your fancy speech, and I won't convince very many with mine. All I can say is that something is wrong with this situation." He paused for effect. "Something happened during the first task that shouldn't have, and it involved Draco Malfoy. I do know that the Minister was looking for any excuse to get rid of Malfoy. I can't prove it, but I believe that what happened did occur for the sole purpose of giving the Minister an excuse."

"MISTER DIGGORY, YOU ARE OUT OF ORDER." To everyone's surprise, it was the headmaster who spoke. "Concerns and opinions about the Tri-Wizard Tournament are not pertinent to this case. Your comments must reflect directly upon Draco Malfoy and why he should or should not be expelled."

Cedric nodded and sat down. Draco sighed. It was a good argument. Then Draco frowned. Hermione was sitting down as well. And the Minister was smiling.

"If there are no more comments . . ."

"Minister." It was Harry Potter, returned from the dead. "If you don't mind, I would like to say something." Potter put both hands on the table and leaned forward.

"When I first heard that Malfoy had been expelled, I embarrassed myself by yelling too loudly. I have always considered him an embarrassment to our house and thought he caused most of the problems he ended up resolving. I was worried about the Rite and called my father by floo powder at once. Both to tell him the good news and to make sure there were no problems with getting rid of the bast . . . Malfoy."

Potter turned his head to look directly at the Minister. "My father explained to me that all I need do is insist that Draco Malfoy be removed from this school and it would happen. It would happen even if every student and teacher stood against me. I have in my hands the power to rid myself of one of the most annoying people I know. I also have an overriding reason for wanting him to stay.

"Despite the desires and wishes of almost everyone, Draco Malfoy is a contestant in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Should he be expelled from Hogwarts, he won't be in the tournament, anymore. Which should make all of us happy.

"BUT. My father also explained this. To be chosen as a champion is to make a binding magical contract. Draco Malfoy has a binding magical contract to be part of the tournament." Potter's voice was becoming stronger, angrier. "If I support his expulsion from this school, I will be voting to let Draco Malfoy die. And I will not have that on my conscience." He turned his gaze from the Minister toward the crowd of students. "Any one of us who remains standing is an accessory to murder."

Harry Potter sat down.

Slowly, almost like a wave, the remaining students sat down as well. Most of them looked stunned, as did many of the students who were already seated. What Potter mentioned had occurred to no one. By her look, that included Hermione Granger.

Draco felt his paranoia stirring. As the Minister was watching the students, he slowly backed up until he was against the teachers' table. In one swift motion, he jumped, pushing up with his hands, and seated himself on the table. It was McGonagall who admonished him and ordered him off the table.

"No, Ma'am," Draco said smartly. He pointed a thumb at the Minister. "Don't want 'im usin' the excuse that I'm still on me feet to t'row me out."

There was a silence after that remark. A silence that threatened to be uncomfortably long. It was finally broken by the Minister clearing his throat.

"Mister Potter. I want to thank you, and I will personally thank your father, for bringing those facts to my attention. We are correct in not dismissing this boy from this school at this time. I also need to apologize to everyone here. My intent was not to cause harm to anyone. I only wished to remove someone whose presence I considered to be a hindrance to the school. Be assured, we will wait until after the tournament, when such an action can be done without endangering anyone."

A few students applauded. Even Draco had to admit that the man sounded like he was being honest. That in his eagerness to do the right thing he almost did something terrible. Then Albus Dumbledore also cleared his throat.

"I don't wish to disappoint you, Minister, or anyone else, but Mister Malfoy has passed the Rite of Inclusion. He may not be expelled. Nor may he remain seated on the teachers table unless he wishes to have a week's worth of detentions." Dumbledore turned to smile at Draco as the boy jumped down.

The Minister was staring. "Are you sure?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I reviewed everything that the Hogwarts records have concerning all previous instances of the Rite, in particular the only time," he smiled, "the only other time it was successful. The exemption was made to prevent someone from waiting until a more . . . appropriate . . . time and trying it again. That would be a form of harassment."

The Minister was now frowning. The headmaster's phrasing was clearly a rebuke. He nodded his head and made a curt statement that he should be going. Without fanfare, he walked to the doors, which were being opened, and left the Great Hall. As the Minister left, Dumbledore raised his wand and dismissed the acoustic spell. The hall seemed quieter all at once. Then Dumbledore suggested it was time to eat. The hall seemed louder than before as the food appeared and everyone began to fill their plates.

Before he was dismissed and sent back to his table, Draco paused as Dumbledore made a parting comment. "Congratulations, my boy. You now have something in common with Uric the Oddball."


	18. The Silver Cups

A/N: Because it is mentioned in the text below I would like to explain the meaning of the following word. TWIT (noun): a pregnant goldfish.

Also, um, well, maybe I should just stop there.

Chapter 18: The Silver Cups

It was as the desserts appeared that Hermione stated the obvious.

"You know, Draco, I just realized how close you came to being expelled."

"Tell me something I don't know."

Hermione's voice became a whisper. "Potter lied."

Draco said nothing. He couldn't think of a reply. Hermione didn't give him much of a chance, anyway. She immediately started to explain what she had just realized. Draco didn't have to be a student at Hogwarts to be in the tournament. He didn't even have to be in school. After all, he represented the Salem Institute and he didn't go there. If the Minister had thought of it, all he had to do was inform everyone that he would simply give permission to Draco to return to Hogwarts on the competition days.

"I'll wager Dumbledore saw it right away," Hermione said in conclusion.

"Damn."

Hermione smiled. "You can thank him now and get it over with."

Draco stood up with a grimace. After all he had gone through with Potter, this would be the second time he'd thanked him. But it had to be done. He walked quickly over to where the other boy was sitting, conscious that more than a few eyes were on him. His feelings for Potter were well known. Almost everyone would tell you he would rather play with Hagrid's pets than spend a minute with that black-haired wizard.

"Potter," Draco said as he came up.

"Malfoy." It was a statement. Potter knew why he was here. He probably expected it. And his tone said he agreed with Draco that they should get it over with as quickly as possible.

"I need to thank you, again. And please extend my thanks to your father as well."

Potter started to say something, then looked around at the others who were with him. One of them was Longbottom. Neville shook his head. Potter turned back to Draco.

"I'll tell him."

Potter didn't smile, but Neville did. As Draco walked back to his place, he thought about that smile. Not necessarily a friendly smile. It said there was more to be told, but not now. What must be said should be done in private. He could be wrong. But he had seen that same smile before, many times before. Back at the home, Mick always gave him that smile when something was up. When there was a chance to make money. Or when they needed to discuss something in case anyone asked questions.

As he sat down, Hermione commented on how little time it took. Draco assured her it was by mutual agreement.

"'mione, could I ask a favour? Let Potter know that if he'd rather talk to you, it's fine by me."

Hermione nodded her head. She understood what he meant. She was the one who figured out what Potter did. Potter would have to explain. Being Potter, he would want to explain. And she knew as well as Draco that Potter would be more open with her.

As Draco served himself a clump of blackberry crumble, he could only wonder why. His most likely idea was that Potter senior knew about Helga Hufflepuff's cup and wanted to repay the debt. His least likely idea was that Potter senior made a mistake and thought he was telling the truth.

* * *

The meal was over. At Ludo Bagman's request, the four champions stayed behind. They followed the Minister for Games and Sports into the room where they had first gathered on the night their names were called.

On a table in the center of the room sat four silver chalices. Bagman told them that he was about to explain about the next task. While the first task did not turn out as planned, thanks to their youngest member, it was considered a success. Again, this was despite their youngest member.

Bagman asked Draco if he understood the nature of the first task, considering the fact that he did manage to succeed in gaining the cup. He laughed at Draco's comment about the troll and admitted that was the Minister's idea. He added that the Minister did it simply to annoy the young Gryffindor. The actual task was facing the spider. The champion was forbidden to use any attacking spells. No curses or jinxes. The task was designed so that the champion would lose.

The purpose of the first task was to test how each champion reacted to an impossible situation. It was a test of endurance and cunning. Since he or she could not attack the spider, it would only be a matter of time before it bit them. The bite would temporarily paralyze them but they would recover without any lasting problems. Bagman pointed out that Angelina Johnson had the best score. Her shielding spells were stronger than the others. She had even managed to get past the spider at one point. Viktor Krum had also managed to get past the spider but he had let his guard slip by running for the chalice. While Miss Delacour had not managed this feat, she did last longer than the other champions. That was why the scores were so close.

Bagman's next question was if Draco understood why this was being explained to him. It was important to know that the tasks were not only about how good one was at magic but also how well they handled themselves. And that was why the Second task would begin with a challenge.

He handed out the chalices to each of the champions. Once that was done, he told them the second task would take place on February 24. The nature of the second task was hidden in the cups. Each of them would have to figure it out. And they would have to keep him informed of their success. If they wished, they could compare notes and even work together on the solutions if they wanted to.

As Bagman dismissed them, Angelina gave Draco a curious look, as though to ask why she would trust him to help if they were competing against each other. Draco gave her a smirk in return. There was no reason to trust him.

* * *

Doctor McCudgeon was waiting as the champions exited the room. She asked to speak to Draco in private. He wished the other champions good luck, asking Angelina to let him know what she found out. She laughed as she left the Great Hall. When Bagman exited the room, he smiled politely and wished the doctor a good night and wished Draco good luck.

"That was nice of them," the doctor said, indicating the silver cup. "I noticed the four crests on the base."

Draco looked at the chalice and noticed that the emblem of each school was embossed on the flat. "Don't even know which one is yours. Only know Hogwarts."

"It's this one, dear. The pentangle" She pointed to a five pointed star within a circle. Inside the star was a moonstone. "Do you know what the symbol means?"

"In the movies, it means evil."

Doctor McCudgeon gave a derisive laugh. "That would be the inverted pentagram. It would be the same as hanging the Christian cross upside down. Any symbol reversed is considered a sign of evil." She mused on a thought. "Let's leave it at that or I'll end up giving you my lecture on symbolism and interpretations. But back to this symbol. Do you have any idea what it means?"

"The pentangle?"

"It's from the Wiccan. And they got it from the druids. The points of the star are the five elements, the top point being spirit. The others are Earth, Air, Water, and Fire. The lines of the star are the five senses: touch, hearing, sight, smell and taste. The circle is the circle of life which encompasses everything. And the point within the circle represents peace. The symbol represents harmony in all things." Having finished her explanation, she asked Draco what he thought.

"I'll stick with interesting," Draco said. "It's a safe word." He added with a laugh, "if Hermione were here, she'd demand to hear that lecture."

Doctor McCudgeon nodded. "Perhaps I should talk to the headmaster about that. It wouldn't hurt to keep my feet wet, teaching-wise. And since we are now alone, let me explain why I wanted to talk to you." Her tone became serious. "We need to meet with you on Saturday. Will that be a problem?"

Draco responded by shrugging his shoulders. "Why?"

"It concerns our reasons for refusing to accept you at our school. And why we did so in such a vocal manner."

"Wondered 'bout that. After you made that nifty plan."

McCudgeon sniffed at 'nifty', as though no proper young man should ever use such a word. "Would you prefer after the morning meal or the afternoon?"

"Professor Lestrange wants to be there," Draco noted. "He is my godfather."

The doctor didn't say anything at once. She didn't seem surprised that the man guessed there would be a meeting. Her look was different from Potter's, though. Potter looked like he wanted to tell him what happened. This woman looked like she had to tell him. That was enough to make him nervous. When she finally spoke it was to comment that the man "has associations with people we do not care to have know our business."

"You mean 'is brother. They ain't talkin' no more. 'ad a fallin' out. An' I trust 'im."

Doctor McCudgeon thought for a while. She told Draco she would consider it. She then gave him her congratulations for a most interesting day as she walked him out of the Great Hall.

"Minister's angry at me, you know," Draco pointed out.

"I could say the same for myself," McCudgeon, replied. "Not that the man doesn't deserve it. He's been in his job too long if you ask me. Too used to people jumping up when he opens his mouth." She smiled at a memory. "Do you know, his first question when we met was how soon I could take you off his hands. Those were his exact words. He made a very bad first impression."

Draco was laughing as he walked through the doors. He stopped laughing at once. Sirius Black was standing there.

"Doctor," he said politely with a short bow. "I hope you don't mind if I ask what you were discussing. As Draco is my legal ward, I am responsible for his actions. Even if I don't like it."

Neither Draco nor the doctor were looking at him. They were looking at what was in his hand. An Extendable Ear. When Draco looked up, Sirius was grinning broadly.

"Useful things, these are. I must promise the Weasley Twins my endorsement of their product. And, Doctor McCudgeon, for the reasons I've stated, I must insist on being part of this meeting."

"And why the sudden concern for what your legal ward is doing? From what I've been given to understand, you've never spent much time trying to be a mentor to him."

Sirius laughed. "I assure you, I've spent more time than I care to remember. I learned the hard way to give him his freedom of movement. But this is too important to let it slip away. I need to know your reasons, and I know Draco will not tell me."

"Saturday morning, then. After breakfast." She glanced at the ear. "And I will remember to always use a silencing spell from now on." She began to leave, then stopped and turned back. "Mister Malfoy, you will inform your godfather."

"You can't be serious?" Black asked.

"The boy trusts him."

"And he doesn't trust me?"

Doctor McCudgeon gave the man a rare smile. "Oh, he does trust you. He just doesn't like you."

* * *

Draco awoke the next morning feeling tired. He remembered giving the password and stumbling into the common room. He did not remember climbing the stairs much less climbing into bed. He went through the motions of getting washed and dressed without even trying to think about it. He finally climbed down the stairwell to the common room to find it empty. Everyone else had gone to breakfast. He checked his pickle watch. He had time, if he didn't take too long to eat.

Walking out of the common room he headed toward the Great Hall, taking his normal detour when he was alone. It took him past a certain portrait and gave him a chance to say hello. Walburga, true to form, would have none of that. He was late for breakfast as it was and he had best hurry. A good start meant a good day. Draco called back with a grin that he already had a bad start. Walburga retorted that it couldn't be worse than yesterday.

"You have fifteen minutes, Malfoy," Argus Filch said as a warning as Draco entered the hall. "You talk to Walburga?"

"She chased me off. Too close to classes."

"I tried to be the first to tell her about the task but Kreacher beat me to it." Filch smiled. "Got to tell her about that Rite thing. She was so proud of you." Argus patted him on the shoulder and told him to take his time.

Draco sat down and grabbed enough food to hold him until lunch. If asked, he could not have told anyone what he at except that eggs were involved. He gulped down a glass of juice as he stood up. With five minutes to spare he walked out and made his way to class. As he stepped outside and made his way to Hagrid's hut, his only thought was that it was warm enough for the coat he was wearing. He yawned as he joined the rest of the students who were already listening to the giant's lesson. Since he was standing in the back, he closed his eyes and tried to listen to what Hagrid was saying.

His eyes were open again in a second. He tried to look over the other students to confirm his suspicions. Hagrid had mentioned spider. In the singular. He heard a whimper from his right. He looked over to find himself standing next to Ron Weasley.

"I hate spiders," Ron said when he noticed Draco watching him. Fear was in his voice and his face.

"Yeah," Draco agreed in a bored voice. "Especially this'un. Got a snarky attitude." His voice became mocking. "Oh, you're that little friend of Hagrid's. How nice to meet you."

Ron snorted. "You're joking. You mean the spider let you get past him because of Hagrid?"

(Everyone ooohed and aaahed at that moment because the spider was showing how far he could stretch his legs.)

Draco used his upper class twit voice. "He was verrry polite about it."

"Hagrid," a familiar voice said, "He is there, behind the others."

Hagrid's voice boomed as he called out Draco's name. Everyone quickly made a path for him. Hagrid was standing there, almost head to head with Aragog, the spider.

Draco nodded to the spider and said good morning. The spider acknowledged that it was a good morning as he had already fed. Hagrid told Draco he did wonderful in the first task, then told him that Professor Lestrange wanted to talk to him. In private. The giant called out Hermione's name and asked her to go as well. He pointed out an old tree trunk some distance away that the Professor was sitting on.

"Why me?" Hermione asked, as they began walking.

"Why do you go with me to visit Uncle Severus? Justin goes because he wants the extra help."

"They still bother listening to him?" She sighed. "He is the Minister. I suppose they have to."

Both of them wished a good morning to Professor Lestrange. The man was smiling as always, but this time he seemed cheerful.

"It is. Isn't it," Rodolphus said cheerfully.

"Black has an Extendable Ear," Draco said with distinctly less cheer.

"A silencing spell is already in place," the man pointed at the students. "My biggest concern is that one of them might decide to practice a new spell. That could be worse than someone deliberately doing it."

Draco nodded. He was beginning to feel some energy from the breakfast he had eaten. "Saturday morning, Sir," he told his godfather. "The American witches want to talk to me."

"And I am invited?"

"You and Sirius Black." By way of unneeded explanation, he added, "He is my legal guardian."

"Can't be helped. Might even work in our favour." He looked specifically at Hermione. "And how is our newest co-conspirator doing? Has Draco told you anything? I already know you were told about my brother."

Hermione was surprised when Rodolphus said conspiracy. He meant it for what it was. She was also nervous when she asked. "What are we conspiring about?"

The man was enjoying himself. "Bartemius Crouch and the fall of the government. Both sides are vying for power as we speak, each trying to make itself dominant. Draco and I are hoping for chaos. Yesterday, we confirmed a new ally. You know, Draco, Potter junior will want to explain himself. We might get more information out of him if we use Hermione as a go-between."

"He already asked me," Hermione replied. She watched as Rodolphus gave Draco a look of pride for thinking of such a thing on his own. She gave a smile of her own when Draco told the man it was so he wouldn't have to talk to Potter.

"It was still good thinking," Rodolphus said. "And I should be bold enough to predict when the government will fall. The 24th of May. After the Third Task."

Draco stared off as he remembered what he had heard. "That's the day Voldemort chose for his return."

"Exactly." A pause. "Oh, did he forget to mention we knew about that?"

Draco wasn't listening. He was remembering. And he remembered everything. He couldn't help but remember everything. And all the pieces were falling into place. Arthur Weasley had even guessed at part of it.

"Draco?" It was Hermione. She was physically shaking him. Rodolphus Lestrange had even lost his smile.

"Sorry." His voice was slurred. "'ad me an epiphany." He chuckled. He could hear that hint of madness in it. He said haughtily, "I know what is going to happen."

"How?" Rodolphus was demanding.

"The cups. One begets a mother's flame. One restores a wizard's name." He had to tell it all. He needed to explain what, or else he'd have to explain how. "The last quest. The Tri-wizard cup will be a portkey. It will take the winner to Voldemort. To be used to restore him to a human body." He was staring off into space. "If I win the tournament, I'll be able to stop him from restoring himself."

"How?" This time it was Hermione.

"I have no idea. But I do know that he intends to use the portkey to return to Hogwarts. And I'd wager me knickers, 'e'll bring frien's."

It was all there, in his head. All the pieces he needed to understand. He told Hermione he had no idea what he would do. That was a lie. He knew exactly what to do. But he had to win the tournament.

"We should tell someone," Hermione insisted.

"I already have," Draco told her. He smiled. "The hardest part of a conspiracy is knowing you can't be told everything."

"But," Hermione was trying to think and Draco could read her face perfectly. James Potter had turned against the Minister. That was what she was thinking. A quick movement of her eyes as she thought about the eventual meeting with Voldemort. The confusion as she understood that she did not know the purpose of the conspiracy, only its immediate goals.

"You were there," Rodolphus Lestrange explained. "You heard what Professor Trelawney said. "Draco is destined to rule the world, and I, for one, intend to be his right hand."


	19. Cabbages and Kings

A/N: This is one of those rare chapters for me. I have the chance to lecture everyone. And hopefully to entertain all of you while I'm doing it. The last time I wrote a chapter like this was for a story where I made Malcolm (from Malcolm in the Middle) a Professor at Hogwarts. A chapter like this makes everyone think: It seems like he knows what he's talking about.

On that cheerful note, good reading.

Chapter 19: Cabbages and Kings

Hermione was upset by what she had heard. She felt only slightly better when Professor Lestrange reminded her that both he and his godson were not well liked. That neither side would do anything to them if they thought they could gain something with their help.

It did not help when they ran into Rita Skeeter outside the main doors. She was glaring at Draco. She began by denouncing his parentage and continued by saying he almost ruined her.

"Phineas Flyspeck, that useless excuse of a reporter filed his story before I could finish rewriting mine. You WERE supposed to be thrown out. And what's worse, He claimed the Minister discovered that little flaw in his plan and asked, ASKED, the students to let you stay. He even quoted the bastard as saying, 'I may detest the boy but I will not take an innocent life'."

"That's a lie," Hermione said hotly.

"I ain't innocent," Draco added needlessly.

"Who cares," Rita retorted. "He stole my byline. MY FRONT PAGE!" She glared at Draco. "The next time you get into trouble, STAY IN TROUBLE. At least until after the morning edition." Her anger subsided. "I need a story, and it had better be good. And don't expect me to be nice to you when I write it. No one wants to read about poor innocent Draco right now."

Draco smiled. Rita frowned, causing Draco's smile to grow larger. "Do you know that spider? He's an old friend of Hagrid, the groundskeeper. He introduced everyone to him at class today."

Rita smiled as Hermione frowned. "A set-up? You did mention that you 'exchanged pleasantries' with the monster? Having rigged the First Task would be a good reason to explain why the Minister demanded you be expelled." She was still smiling when she told Draco he was a horrid young man.

"Glad I could help."

Hermione was angry, now. As they entered the castle, she pointed out that Hagrid could get into trouble. Draco shrugged his shoulders. The Minister already thought Hagrid was simple. He'd blame somebody in Gryffindor instead.

"'mione, you do know that the Minister goofed. I'd wager it's better to be on his bad side, right now."

"At least you listened when Justin explained that to you." Just before she stormed off, she added, "Hagrid will still get into trouble because of YOU."

* * *

Friday morning. The owls had arrived to deliver the mail. Hermione asked Ron Weasley if she could see his copy of the Daily Prophet. He did it because she called him Ronald. That meant she was mad about something and he didn't want to be on the receiving end for something trivial like wanting to read his own paper before anyone else.

"What an interesting title," Hermione said coldly. Glaring at Draco. "HOGWARTS STAFF INVOLVED IN FRAUD."

"Whoever could that be?" Draco asked innocently. "Oh, who wrote the piece, by the way."

"You know who wrote it," Hermione said angrily. She pointed at the byline, "Ri . . . Phineas Flywheel?"

Hermione looked at Draco. Smiling Draco. "What . . . Did . . . You . . . Do . . . Now?"

Draco didn't tell her. He didn't tell her that Rita Skeeter was an illegal animagus. He didn't tell her that she came back to get details so her story would be that much more convincing. He didn't tell her that she had a devious plan to sink the now promising career of a fellow journalist. Lastly, he didn't tell her that he had, technically, another private interview with an up and coming reporter who had just been personally thanked by the Minister for Magic for his honesty and integrity. He did tell her she should read the article.

Ron Weasley said that since she had his newspaper, she should read it out loud.

* * *

_ HOGWARTS STAFF INVOLVED IN FRAUD by Phineas Flywheel._

_ In yesterday's newspaper, this intrepid reporter revealed the efforts to expel a student. One Draco Malfoy. I also revealed that the Minister himself realized the catastrophic results of his intent and quickly put an end to this effort. What we did not know at the time was that all of this was planned by unscrupulous members of the staff at Hogwarts._

_ Most of what I am about to tell you comes directly from the mouth of Draco Malfoy, himself, who came to me (by ways that shall remain secret) to tell a fearful tale, one that was surely meant to end in his death._

"Keep reading, 'mione," Draco encouraged.

"As soon as," snort, "I stop laughing."

"What's funny," Ron asked, "about a (snicker) fearful tale?"

Hermione gave the newspaper back to Ron. "You read it, if you think you can keep a straight face."

Ron gave her his best Weasley grin and told her it was not a problem. "Now, where'd you stop? Oh yeah . . . surely meant to end in his death."

_He now sleeps soundly in a safe and secret place while I relate to all of you the facts that I have manages to confirm._

"I didn't know our dorm was a secret," Dean Thomas said.

"It gets better," Draco assured Hermione.

_Young Malfoy, by the time you read this, will be appearing before the Wizengamot to repeat everything and more that he has said to me._

_ It was Remus Lupin, the Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts that he first accused. The man had successfully managed to lull the boy into a false sense of security by telling him he was a former house mate of his mother. What he held in secret was that he was also a spurn lover and jealous, in this reporter's opinion, to the point of insanity. He deliberately altered the posted rules of the First Task before young Malfoy could read them, guaranteeing that the boy would fail. He covered up his tracks with the help of Sirius Black, Head of Security for the games, Malfoy's legal guardian and, alas, another former classmate of Lily Malfoy nee Evans who had unsuccessfully vied for her love._

_ Had both of these men succeeded in their plan, all we would have known was that an unpopular boy had died under unfortunate circumstances. But here is where their plan failed._

"MALFOY," Harry Potter yelled from down the table, "WHAT IS THIS BLOODY NONSENSE?"

"He reads faster than you do," Draco explained to Ron. Potter came storming up to where they were all sitting, his copy of the Prophet crumpled in his hand. Dean Thomas told him to be quiet. "We're still trying to find out what the bloody nonsense is."

"Just ask him," Potter answered.

Draco sounded hurt. "How should I know? I haven't read the article. All I know is that I'm talking to the Wizengamot at this very moment."

Hermione tried to say something but started laughing. She stopped, tried to look serious, then started laughing again. It didn't help that everyone else was laughing as well. Ron tried to look annoyed. "I lost my place again, here it is, here is where their plan failed."

_They attempted to enlist one more person into their schemes, the alleged Death Eater Rodolphus Lestrange. They believed he would aid them because the Malfoys were enemies of his former employer whom we will not name. And that was a significant mistake. Rodolphus Lestrange had already proven he had foresworn his old allegiances by revealing the escape of his own brother, Rabastan Lestrange, who is still at large. Also, he had been placed at Hogwarts, by the Minister himself, specifically to safeguard the young Draco Malfoy. The obvious co-conspirator became the spy within their midst. He could not stop their plan to sabotage the task, but he did manage to send a message to one of Malfoy's friends, and his own son, Casper Lestrange, who asked the Minister for the Rite of Inclusion (See the companion article on page four)._

_ Thus, we come to the next chapter of our tale. Casper Lestrange, curiously, has a close friend by the name of William Potter. The two families had hated each other for generations. But this had not stopped the two boys. And this friendship guaranteed that the plan of the jealous lovers would fail. As we all know, James Potter is a powerful Auror and the right hand of the Ministry. When his son revealed the plot, he was at once believed._

_ Now we have the epilogue. The happy ending. As I have said, a grateful Draco Malfoy will, by this time, be revealing everything. His godfather will be there as well, to provide written documentation._

Everyone paused at this point to look at the teacher's table where Professor Lestrange was listening intently to Professor Flitwick who was also reading the Daily Prophet.

_Lastly, I have confirmation that both Black and Lupin are being held in protective custody. Their trials will most likely be short and their sentences long, which is no more than they deserved._

_ The only question remaining is why did the boy choose to speak with me when other, more experienced reporters were prepared to take up the task? Because he read in this very newspaper that the Minister respected my work. Draco Malfoy, whom many accused of wanting to be the next Dark Lord, wanted to talk to me, because of his personal respect for Bartemius Crouch. Perhaps we should think more kindly of this boy, Draco Malfoy, in the future._

Ron Weasley looked up at Draco when he was done reading. "Is it true? You respect the Minister?"

"Like a fly loves ****," Draco acknowledged.

No one was surprised when Sirius Black stopped by the table. Nor was anyone surprised when the man announced that Dumbledore was having a special meeting in the headmaster's office immediately after breakfast. There was a further lack of surprise when he announced that Draco was told to attend.

* * *

It was a merry crew that was gathered in Hagrid's hut for tea after the classes ended. Fred and George Weasley invited themselves so they would not have to wait with everyone else to find out what happened.

"Well," Draco began, "I was nervous at first, because I didn't know exactly what to expect. I mean, I did have plenty of witnesses that I was in the dorm all night. And everyone was there that I expected. Sirius Black, he immediately demanded to know why he was in protective custody. Professor Lupin, He looked like he wanted to laugh but was waiting to hear the end of the joke. Dumbledore, it was his office after all. McGonagall, our head of house. And Professor Lestrange, apparently he was back early from the Wizengamot.

"Dumbledore first off asked me how I managed to be in two places at once. I told him, honestly, that I didn't know. He asked if I had talked to anyone last night. I admitted that Rita Skeeter had asked for an interview. She was trying to find a story after her last one failed to make the paper."

* * *

Sirius Black ended up laughing. "I heard about that. Albus, she had already written her article about Draco being expelled. She was very upset."

Albus nodded. "I also heard that Draco suggested she write about the spider in the first task being a close friend of Rubeus Hagrid."

"She decided not to," Draco said quickly. "She thought it would sound too weird." He paused as a Lupin and Lestrange looked at him. The rest glared. "That's, uh, why she wanted to talk to me again. She said she was trying to write a background piece on me. On how I felt about staying. And how the other students felt."

"Really?" Dumbledore asked.

"Really. And she was very nice. She even picked a stray hair off my robes." Draco managed not to smile as he said this prepared line. She had actually plucked a couple of hairs from his head, after first asking permission and promising he would be amused at the results.

Rodolphus Lestrange laughed. "THAT WOMAN! BRILLIANT!"

McGonagall frowned, but Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were also grinning. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling as he said, "Minerva, it was Polyjuice Potion. The hair the woman took from Draco."

When Draco asked, he was told that it was a changing potion. You added a part of the person you wanted to become, such as a hair, and when you drank the potion you became that person for a short period of time, about an hour.

Draco nodded as he understood the joke. Rita Skeeter had torpedoed the career of her most likely replacement.

* * *

Draco paused in his retelling as Hermione chose to explain what Polyjuice Potion was. She had read about it in a book. It was very complicated and needed quite a few ingredients that were hard to find.

Fred and George assured her that they could find them and asked her for a list. She refused, for the present.

"And you didn't get into any trouble?" Justin asked.

"I am forbidden to talk to any reporter without my head of house or my legal guardian being present."

"Good," Hermione told him.

Draco did not tell anyone two things that Rita told him. Thursday morning, the Minister has called a session of the Wizengamot. It was supposed to be a formality. He made two proposals. The first was that the legal guardianship of Draco Malfoy should be put in someone else's hands. The second was that Sirius Black should be removed from his position at Hogwarts. In a rare show of defiance, the Wizengamot rejected both proposals. Rita not only gained her revenge on an upstart reporter, she also took a long awaited swipe at the Minister.

* * *

Saturday. After breakfast. Rodolphus Lestrange walked up to Draco and asked to speak with him in private. A simple subterfuge to keep anyone from asking where he was going. Draco was also surprised when he suggested Hermione join them, for the sake of appearances.

The three left the hall and made their way up the stairs. When they reached the second floor the three walked past the empty classrooms toward where the teacher's offices were. Rodolphus led them into a room and told them to sit with their friend.

"Sirius Black brought me," Justin told them. He looked at Draco. "He doesn't want to risk your being overheard when you tell us what happened."

Draco nodded. He noted that Fred and George weren't invited. Sirius Black gave a short laugh. He said that the twins could be trusted to make sure they weren't overheard. And inviting them to join the group would have made too many people suspicious. Professor Lestrange also noted that they didn't know what this meeting was about, only that it was important. The American witches were going to explain themselves.

A few minutes later, Doctor McCudgeon walked in with her two associates. She questioned at once why Hermione and Justin were present. Sirius repeated his remark that Draco was going to tell them anyway, especially if he was ordered not to. McCudgeon scowled as she sat down in a chair. Professor Adrem couldn't help but grin, both at Sirius Black's explanation and her superior's reaction. Professor Duracam took the last chair and suggested that "the Granger girl is a smart one. She might help to keep the boy in line."

Thus, less than an hour after breakfast, eight people were sitting around a large round table. Seven were drinking tea. The three American witches were drinking coffee.

Doctor McCudgeon laid down the ground rules of the discussion. They were here to talk to Draco Malfoy. Everyone else was here to listen. Questions during the discussion should be for clarification purposes only. Hermione told Draco he'd be asking a lot of questions. Draco told her she was wrong. He was going to have her explain it afterwards.

"Are you done?" the doctor asked.

"Mildred," Professor Adrem added with a laugh, "He hasn't even started."

"Minnie, don't encourage them."

"Perhaps if we began?" Professor Duracam suggested.

Doctor McCudgeon nodded. She turned to Draco. "Mister Malfoy, what do you know about prophecies?"

"Dropped Divination class after five minutes."

"The Liar Prophecy," Hermione pointed out.

McCudgeon nodded. "And, of course, that boy, Jack Andrews." Her look told Draco she would keep his secret, the one about seizing the cups. That was something that didn't need to be spread around. "Professor Adrem is our specialist when it comes to prophecies. She has done a great deal of research in the field. And that is the reason she came with us. It is also the reason we are having this meeting. Minnie, do you want to explain?"

Professor Adrem smiled at Draco and asked if he had ever heard of Michel de Nostradamus. Draco admitted that he heard the name, and that the man had predicted just about everything. Justin said that he knew about him and even read a book about him and the ten 'centuries' of quatrains that he wrote. He then explained to Draco that a century was a group of 100 quatrains. Draco asked the professor if the man had actually made 1,000 prophecies. Adrem noted that the man made over 6,300 of them, most of them published in pamphlets of the time. One of them struck her as curious when she heard about Hogwarts. And Draco.

"The bumblebee hovers / as the dragon languishes / The leader seeks to banish the dragon / He banishes himself instead." She smiled. "It sounds better in the original French." The professor added that the quatrain was now obvious. It referred to the Rite that took place a few days ago.

"So, I'm the dragon. Me name makes that obvious. The leader is the Minister. What's the bumblebee?"

"Who is the bumblebee, Mister Malfoy." Professor Adrem was smiling at him. "An old English term for a bumblebee is dumbledore."

"Bloody 'ell." Draco looked at Professor Adrem. "An' you knew it was 'im an' me?"

The history professor nodded. "The bumblebee and the dragon go hand in hand"

"They wept like anything," Justin said, "to see such quantities of sand."

Hermione was grinning, as was Minerva Adrem. The others were giving Justin a confused look.

"It's from a poem. The Walrus and the Carpenter were walking hand in hand. They wept like anything to see such quantities of sand. Lewis Carroll."

Professor Lestrange nodded. "I will have to look him up. It sounds interesting."

Professor Adrem smiled. "Well then: the time has come the dragon said to speak of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax. Of cabbages and kings. Of why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings." She made it a point to look around the table. "We need to explain why we refuse to let Draco come to our school. As we learned more about him, Dolores and I began reviewing everything prophecy I've catalogued and indexed. It turned out that was not the only one."

It was Sirius Black who interrupted. "Are you telling me that the Americans have a prophecy about . . ." he decided not to use his first choice of words, ". . . him?"

Professor Duracam decided to answer him. "To date, we have found twenty-three." As everyone fell silent, she added, "Minnie, I told you we should have brought a camera."

"Before we go any further," Professor Adrem said, "I think we should explain about the different kinds of prophecies." She smiled at Draco. "If you had stayed in Divination, it would have helped."

"No, it wouldn't," Hermione said. "You saw Professor Trelawney during the Rite. She always talks about the inner eye and the positions of the planets." She looked at Draco. "Lavender Brown thinks she's a wonderful teacher."

"I concede the pont," Professor Adrem admitted, "but we should get on with the explanations. First, the prophecy of knowledge. It isn't a prediction, more of a revelation."

Draco smiled. "Like having pizza for lunch."

"Exactly," Professor Adrem said with a laugh.

Doctor McCudgeon scowled. "That boy could be another Nostradamus."

"You must be joking." That was Sirius Black. "By predicting the menu?"

McCudgeon snorted. "You've never read Nostradamus, have you? Did you ever hear of this prophecy? In the year 1999 and seven months / The great king of terror will come from the skies / He will resurrect Genghis Khan / before and after war rules happily. It was a very popular prediction about World War III."

"I do," Hermione said cautiously. "You're going to tell us what it was really about?"

"In July of 1999, a cable television station in France broadcast a movie about Marco Polo. Before and after it were shown two popular war movies." The Professor was smiling. "Would you like another example?" After an amused pause she continued. "This is also a prophecy that was fulfilled in recent years. In the year very near, not far from Venus / The two greatest of Asia and Africa / From the Rhine to the lower Danube said to have come / Cries, tears, at Malta and the Ligurian coast." She smiled at everyone. "Any guesses? It was supposed to be about the Second World War."

Professor Lestrange decided to try his hand. "Venus. That would mean love? Or a time when it was clearly visible in the skies? I would think it means love, not war."

"That was very good. It's about the Miss Universe pageant, the year it was held in Austria. Two of the contestants, one from South Africa and another from Japan. Both flew into Bonn and transferred planes to Vienna. Apparently there were problems with the weather. The contestants from Malta and Italy both arrived late."

"But," Hermione was perplexed, "how is that significant?"

"It isn't," Doctor McCudgeon told her. "But that is what most of the man's prophecies are about. There's one that a lot of Christian fanatics claim predicts their antichrist. It actually a prediction that came true in the 17th century. A prince of Malta was served a salad on his birthday and he liked it."

"A salad?" Draco asked.

"With tomatoes. The man did have perhaps a dozen meaningful predictions, but most of them were simple nonsense that no one cared about. And, Mister Malfoy, your friend Jack appears to have the same ability, except he uses limericks instead of quatrains."

"I told you he was creepy," Hermione whispered to Draco.

"Anyway," Professor Adrem said, "back to business. Prophecies of knowledge are fairly common. And we did have a few concerning Draco. Such as 'the dragon speaks with a confusing rhyme'. Draco is a Cockney, for all practical purposes. 'The golden dragon has bad faith'. Draco Malfoy has blond hair."

"That is impressive," Professor Lestrange said. He then yawned.

"It was useful," Professor Adrem replied. "We recognized him at once when we saw him at the station, but enough of that. There is the second kind of prophecy. The Prophecy of Intent." She was looking at Draco again. "This is one step removed from the first kind. It tells us what someone is thinking of doing."

"But not what they do?" Hermione asked.

Professor Adrem nodded. "In my opinion these are the most useful prophecies. They are often warnings. One prophecy in particular warned of a conspiracy. The wizard who heard it related the prophecy to a friend named William Parker, who was known as Lord Monteagle. This led to the arrest of a man who'd name should be familiar to you. Guy Fawkes."

"Of course," Hermione said in understanding. "That was before the Statute of Secrecy. Wizards were still associating with muggles."

"Would you like to hear one about Draco? It was given to us by Cassandra Trelawney. I believe she was the great-great grandmother of your Divination professor. She said, and I quote, 'the prisoned one will do or die to protect the dragon. Do you mind if I'm a bit cryptic? This has nothing to do with you. Not directly'." Professor Adrem paused to let out a laugh. "I love that quote."

Draco noticed that even Doctor McCudgeon smiled slightly. It was she who decided to explain. "With all due respect, it is obvious, Draco, that Cassandra was talking about your godfather. And from what I have heard, he has already risked his life to help you. Sirius Black told us what happened when the Minister brought dementors onto the school grounds."

"It was not that dangerous," Professor Lestrange insisted. "They were not attacking me."

"Still, Sir, your quick action shows deep regard for the boy, and that is what the prophecy tells us."

Professor Lestrange conceded the point, and Professor Adrem continued.

"The next kind of prophecy is the Prophecy of Action. It doesn't tell us what someone is planning. It tells us what they are doing or will do. An old one, which even then was considered to be more of an educated guess than a real prophecy was that the Duke of Normandy would claim the throne of England. That obviously referred to William the Conqueror. A more modern prediction would be, to quote Nostradamus again, Century two, Quatrain 51. 'The blood of the just will be demanded by London, burned by the fire in the year sixty-six'."

"The Fire of London?" Justin asked.

Adrem nodded. "It was one of the few predictions that were of any importance. And we have another one. It tells us of something that happened to Draco. 'The orphaned one, homeless, forsaken, will struggle against himself in the house of his enemy. The house will become his home, freely given to the dragon.' Does that sound familiar?"

Draco was staring. The meaning was clear to him. Alastor Moody's house. But it also brought back the memory of how it became his. As he wiped away a sudden tear, Hermione told the professor that it was a painful memory. Adrem nodded. She changed the subject at once.

"The last kind of prophecy is the Prophecy of Event. It isn't a prediction, per se. It usually deals with something of great import and what will happen if someone takes a certain action. For example, there was a prophecy that Richard the Lionhearted would never return from Chaluz. He died there. Had he heeded the warning and never gone there, he would not have died when he did. You history, and ours, could have been very different. In another example, it was predicted that Christopher Columbus would give up on his quest after being rejected by the Spanish Crown and he would become nothing. Columbus acted against this prophecy and dared to approach Queen Isabella a second time. She decided to support his expedition and he discovered the New World."

Professor Adrem paused. She was looking specifically at Draco. "The significance of a Prophecy of Event is that if you recognize what it is you can either accept it or refuse it. In both of these examples, the person involved knew what the prophecy meant. Richard chose to disregard it, and died. Columbus chose to accept the prophecy, and work against it. He continued pressing his case. And every year they hold a parade in New York to celebrate his discovery."

"And you have one about me?" Draco asked.

"A big one. The dragon comes to the new land. The danger he leaves behind overwhelms the land, then crosses the ocean to destroy the world."

Sirius Black was the first to overcome his shock. "You're talking about . . . Voldemort. Do you mean that if Draco leaves England . . ."

"Exactly," Doctor McCudgeon said. "If we were to accept Mister Malfoy into our school, the man would not only be victorious here, he would reek havoc on the entire world. I agreed with Professor Adrem's analysis. If that would happen anyway, there would have been no need for a prediction. Therefore, he must stay at Hogwarts. Mister Malfoy will do something, we have no idea what, that could cause the man to fail."

"And you did this, openly?" Professor Lestrange asked. "You could have kept to your original plan and rejected him at the end of the school year. Why now?"

"Politics." This was Professor Duracam. "Now that we're involved in this tournament, people back home are starting to take notice. The press likes a bad boy and several newspapers were already suggesting that it would be a good thing to have him in an American school. If we waited, and he continued to become popular, we might be forced by the board to give him a place."

"And that," Professor Adrem pointed out, "would fulfill the prophecy. I think All Y'all agree, this is one prophecy we want to refuse."

Draco was stunned. He would do something, or cause something to happen, to defeat the Dark Lord. And he had no idea what. There was another prophecy, one that he knew about but didn't know. It involved either Potter or Longbottom. Voldemort wanted one or both of them dead because of it. In the back of his mind was the idea that he would be the unintended target because he got in the way. He unconsciously rubbed his scar as he remembered that it had happened once before.

* * *

Sunday. At breakfast. The best word that Draco could think of was the word numb. It described how he was feeling, or not feeling in this case. The proof was that he had finished eating fifteen minutes earlier and was still sitting there staring at his plate. Nor was he the only one. Hermione wasn't talking either, at least not to him.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder. It was Doctor McCudgeon. She said three words. "Walk with me."

Draco stood up and followed her from the hall. She was opening the main doors when he caught up to her. She gave him her best fake smile and said it was a beautiful day. Draco looked at the grey clouds threatening rain, and agreed.

"We goin' anywhere," Draco asked as they started walking down the road that led to the entrance.

"I'm going home. And you are such an enchanting and endearing boy that you asked to escort me to the train station."

"Yeah, I'm usin' it as an excuse to sneak into town. What's wiff all this?"

Doctor McCudgeon gave an honest smile. "I must truly make you nervous. I haven't heard your accent that thick since you introduced me to your dragon. Did you like the lecture on the different kinds of prophecies? We left one out. Prophecies of choice. And don't worry. I put a silencing spell around us, just in case."

Draco nodded his head. The Weasleys had Ears. "Any advice?"

"That was a quick mood change. Mister Malfoy, it appears that your personal confidence is liked to your knowledge of the situation. You were nervous because you didn't know what this conversation was about. You are now calm because you do. My first piece of advice is to remain calm. Your enemies know how you act and react. Staying calm may cause them to make mistakes. Also, remain calm about the prophecies. They are all meaningless in the end except those few that can help us. If you worry about prophecies you can cause them to happen. If you don't believe me, read Macbeth."

"Wouldn't that have happened anyway?"

"Becoming King? His best friend's son becoming King and the father of Kings? It could have. Fortunes of war have Banquo killed in action. The childless Macbeth adopts the orphaned Fleance. Through ill fortune, King Duncan's sons also die. It could be in battle or an illness or accident. Duncan makes Macbeth, his most loyal servant, his heir. King Macbeth makes his beloved son, Fleance, his heir. The prophecy comes true without all the bloodshed. Do you see my point? Don't try to force the issue. It will happen of it's own accord."

"Right, remain calm. Don't worry about the small stuff. What else

"My second piece of advice is to win this contest at all cost. We all know what the result will be if you do. You must be there to make that choice, whatever it is. I have no idea what choice you will be asked to make, but to not make the choice would be worse than if we took you to the States with us."

"Worse?" Draco laughed. "What could be worse than total world destruction?"

"Not living long enough to see it happen." Doctor McCudgeon did not laugh. "I was talking on a much smaller scale. My questions is this. Is there anything I can do to ensure that you win this tournament?"

Draco gave her his best smile. Truth was the only option. He had another co-conspirator and she didn't know it yet. "It's not a problem. The fix is on." He frowned. "Is in?"

No smile. No surprise. Only a Hrmph followed by the remark. "I should have guessed the contest was rigged from the beginning. Is THAT MAN involved?"

"Naw? Not really. He's planning on kidnaping the champion. Ludo Bagman made this bet, and I've got a piece of it. And the Minister's son is part of it because he hates Daddy."

McCudgeon nodded. "And he could be . . ."

"They're called Death Eaters. Truth is, he really hates Daddy."

As they approached the gates, Doctor McCudgeon stopped. She took a close look at Draco Malfoy as though trying to memorize every feature. "You know everything? And you are still going through with this?"

"I even have a plan. All I need to do is win."

"And the points?"

"It means I get a late start on the third task. But it won't matter who starts first. All that matters is who finishes first. I grab the cup, I win."

"Let me guess. The third task is already planned out."

Draco's smile answered that question.

Doctor McCudgeon gave Draco another smile, almost motherly, as she reflected on the fact that she was leaving.

"There is one thing I do need to thank you for. Because of you, I saw my first real dragon." She turned to go and turned back. "About coming to the States. Wait until all this is over. Then, you can go anywhere you want."

Draco smirked, "Don't you know? I'm going to rule the world."

He stood at the gates and watched her walking away. For all he knew, they would never meet again.


	20. The Yule Ball

Chapter 20: The Yule Ball

Draco continued with his weekly routine. He and Hermione, most times with Justin, would visit Severus Snape on Tuesday after classes. Mostly, they would review the materials for the past week and be given advanced notice on what to expect in the next few classes. Then there would be tea and conversation. The first question, now that the first task was over, was if Draco had any luck deciphering the clue of the silver chalice. This was followed by an admonition that he shouldn't put it off. Hermione would always follow that statement with a comment that the professor was correct.

Fridays were still spent at Hagrid's. Tea that was always accepted and biscuits that were quietly passed on to Fang when given a chance. Hagrid's first question was always about the chalice. His second question was always about the guitar. After Professor McGonagall made her announcement about the Yule Ball, that became his third question. Hermione said at once that Justin had asked her. Draco blithely commented that he wouldn't bother since all the good girls were already taken.

Hagrid was aghast.

"But ye have ta take someone. All the champions dance the firs' dance."

"Fine, I'll ask someone." Draco's good mood faded as he had another task to perform in this tournament. Who could he ask? Every girl he knew would want to go. He doubted that any of them would want to go with him. He quickly decided on a plan. He would wait for a week or so then ask someone who was hadn't been asked yet. He would assure them they could do whatever they wanted after the first dance. His backup plan would be to explain to Professor McGonagall that he did not know how to dance. It couldn't be that important. That decided, he turned to Hermione.

"Did you tell Justin? If you would go with him?"

Hermione frowned at him. Then she laughed. "Of course I did."

"Lucky, too," Justin added. "Fred came by and asked her just after."

"And Victor Krum," Hermione added in a dreamy voice. "He likes that I can play Quidditch and that I'm smart."

"So does Ron Weasley."

"Victor never asked me to do his homework for him. Although he does like to sit with me in the library. He told me I'm not an unwanted distraction."

Draco was surprised at the news. Then he realized that he shouldn't have been surprised at all. Viktor was always friendly to him. They even talked a couple of times. Once was about Quidditch. The other, now that Draco thought about it, was about his friends, particularly his female friend that Viktor always saw in the library.

It was mid-December, a Saturday. Draco had the silver cup with him as he lugged his guitar to an empty classroom. It was too cold to even think about practicing outside. That would have to wait for a few months. As he walked down the corridor to his favorite place to practice, he heard a noise. It sounded like a sob.

Despite his misgivings, Draco decided to investigate. It would probably be nothing except a waste of his time. He opened the door from where he had heard the noise, fully prepared to apologize, show his guitar case and say he would find another place to play.

Someone turned to look at him. A beautiful French someone.

"Draco?"

"Uh, sorry, Fleur. I heard a noise . . ."

That was good, Draco thought to himself. Throw away all your excuses at once.

Fleur gave him a brief smile. "You are English. You could perhaps help me?"

"Sure." Draco knew his attraction to her was because she was part Veela, but he was still willing to do anything if it would help her to smile. "English as they come. What's the problem?"

Fleur did smile. If she asked, Draco would have jumped out the window just so that smile would remain on her face. "It iz a boy. I know he likes me, but . . . he doez not ask me to ze Ball. 'ow would you think I should handle zis?"

"He's probably an idiot. Who cares if he didn't ask you. Forget about it. You're the champion. Ask whoever you want. Better yet, tell him he has to go with you or he'll dishonour his country or something."

Draco had a sudden thought. He needed a date. She needed a date. And all he had to do was open his mouth.

Fleur spoke first. "Magnifique. It iz a brilliant idea. Not to ask but to tell him." As she walked past him, she gave him a peck on the cheek and thanked him. Draco was now alone. His first thought was that he still didn't have a date.

"Damn."

* * *

Rita Skeeter found Draco in the classroom. Her first remark was that he was getting better. Her second question was who his date was going to be. He didn't think to ask how or why she was there. He idly played the scales on the guitar while he told her he had no idea who to ask. She offered to find someone.

Draco paused. He was curious what kind of girl the reporter would find. He was also tempted to ask how much she would cost.

"I'll ask someone. I haven't decided who, yet."

"What a pity. That could have made the front page. I'd have to use stock photographs, but still, it would have been a good story."

She walked over to the cup. "And this is supposed to be the clue? It's too plain for my tastes. It looks more like an expensive souvenir." Rita bid him good day and opened the window slightly. By the time Draco closed the window, the beetle she had become had long disappeared.

The next day, in the Daily Prophet was a story about the upcoming Yule Ball. Ron Weasley was reading it aloud. He noted that Angelina Johnson would be accompanied by his brother, George. Viktor Krum's date was some French girl. According to Rita Skeeter, Fleur Delacour did not have a date. She had turned down over a dozen suitors already.

"At this rate, the high-nosed hussy may end up dancing alone."

"I don't believe she said that," Hermione grumbled. "She likes to cause trouble."

"Trouble makes for good headlines," Draco commented. Then he paused. "Ron, what does she say about me?" He knew he should worry when Ron grinned.

"Draco Malfoy, who recently escaped expulsion for his actions at the first task, admitted that he had not asked anyone yet. According to an anonymous source, he does have a particular girl in mind. And the particular girl is well aware of it. The girl was overheard to say that he knows he doesn't even have to ask. Once he does ask her, then we will reveal her name."

Dean, sitting next to Ron, was grinning as well. "You still don't have a date. Do you?"

* * *

_Janice_,

That was always a good start for a letter, Draco thought. Put down the name of the person you're sending it to so that they know they're reading the right letter. Then he sat there. What should he say? Most of his letters were about nothing. But this was a letter to say he wouldn't be home for Christmas holiday. It had to say something.

_I won't be coming by for the holidays like I planned. They're having this big contest here and I got picked to be part of it. It's not just our school. There are two other schools, too. They just told me that as part of being in the contest, I have to go to the Christmas dance. They're on to me, too, so I've no chance to skive off._

_ Say hi to Mick for me, and to the kids._

_ Draco_

* * *

Draco walked up to the Owlery and gave the letter to an owl. There was now one less thing to worry about.

That issue resolved, he finally attempted to find a suitable date. Despite the fact that most of the school despised him. Some hated him for tricking the Goblet of Fire in order to enter the tournament. It took prestige away from the rightful Hogwarts champion, Angelina Johnson. Others hated him because of his smug attitude. He doubted that any of them would accept the excuse that he was being smug to hide the fact that he had never thought about what other people would think. They would believe him but they would not accept the excuse. And there were always those who hated him because he was the Boy-Who-Lived and he was only waiting for his chance to overthrow You-Know-Who and become the next Dark Lord. In all, that left few people he could ask.

There were also those students that thought he was a joke. (Some of them were also in the first group.) They saw Draco Malfoy as the boy who had once apologized to a house elf. He was also the boy who had brought a dragon to Hogwarts only to be treated as though he was her son. Her lazy son. Everyone remembered the time the dragon almost smashed in the walls of the castle trying to wake the boy out of his daydreams.

There were also students who liked him, or at least thought of him as nice. He tried asking some of them.

Susan Bones was very polite. She told him she already had a date. And she said she would have agreed to go with him if that were not the case. He dared to ask her if she knew anyone. Anyone who was at least a third year. Susan laughed. Every third year in her house who wanted to go already had a date. That was because otherwise they could not go. If they and their dates ended up dancing with other people, well . . . these things happen. Draco had to admit it was a clever arrangement.

It never occurred to Draco to ask anyone in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. The Ravenclaws, as a group, distrusted him. The Slytherins were more than willing to be nice to him, but he was already warned that any girls he asked would say yes, simply to place themselves in good standing with Professor Snape.

Draco asked Professor Lestrange. The Professor laughed. He pointed out that his romantic efforts resulted in his marrying Bellatrix. He told Draco to consider the fact that, since his release from Azkaban, he has never even stayed the night in the same house as his wife, much less the same bed.

He dared asking Professor Snape. Uncle Severus offered to order the girl of his choice to accompany him.

* * *

_Dragon,_

_ Good for you. Show them poshes what you're made of. Janice is a bit off and told me to write this. Between you and me, this won't be a good Christmas anyway. Not that there's nothing to worry about. Just things._

_ Mick_

Draco frowned. Subtlety was never Mick's strong point. Now he had something else to worry about. And it was something he couldn't do anything about.

Angry, he crumpled up the letter and threw it away. 

* * *

Draco thought of asking Fred or George. They would help. They would also make sure everyone knew he had come to them for help. He compromised. He asked Ron if he knew anyone who was available. Ron smirked. He said that Lavender was until ten minutes ago. He started to suggest his sister, then remembered the history Draco had with Ginny. It could be awkward. Draco nodded his agreement.

All of this occurred in the week before the ball. On the day before the ball, Draco decided to panic. A chance meeting with Ginny Weasley in a sparsely filled common room decided his course.

"Ginny, could I ask you a favor? About the Ball."

She blushed. "Um, I'm sorry, Draco. I already have a date."

"Yeah, I know," Draco lied, hiding his disappointment. "It just that, well, I don't. I knew I wasn't liked by most, but I . . ." He paused. "Do you know anybody?"

"You should have asked Hermione."

"Justin asked her within one minute of finding out about the Yule Ball. If dates were Snitches, he'd be Hufflepuff's Keeper instead of Diggory."

Ginny laughed. Then she paused thoughtfully. "I might be able to help."

Draco was grateful. At this point, his only needs for a date were that she could dance and would be willing to dance the first dance with him. He added that she wouldn't even have to hang around him after that.

The next morning, Ginny told him she was going to talk to a couple of girls she knew. They were third years but were staying for other reasons than the Yule Ball. And the arrangements were made. If Ginny could get back to him, she would. Otherwise, he should wait in front of the Great Hall with her date. And Ginny made a promise that endeared her to him. If she could not find someone for him, she would dance with him, herself. Draco told her he shouldn't grovel but he was grateful. Then he asked who her date was.

"Potter?"

"He has changed, Draco. He's made an effort to control his temper. He even made it a point to apologize to everyone. Almost everyone." She smiled at him. "You should know, if he'd ever bothered to apologize to you, I would not have made that offer. In fact, I'm hoping things work out that I have to dance with you. It might teach Harry something."

Draco had to smile. It was a win-win situation in his mind. If he could not get a date, at least he could embarrass someone.

* * *

It was an effort to get dressed that night. Ginny did tell him, just after it had gone noon, that things were looking up but that she had yet to get a firm reply. Draco nodded. He knew the truth. Ginny had spent most of the morning arguing with her brothers. She hadn't the chance to ask anyone yet. But her promise made it so he was not worried. The effort was in putting on his dress robes. Unwanted memories came back of the day he had received them as a gift. He spent an overly long time looking at himself, regretting that he would never be able to share this moment.

When he was ready, he made his way to the Great Hall. The other champions were already gathered. Angelina had George Weasley as her date as expected. The Beaubatons champion, Fleur Delacour, was a surprise. Her escort was also a Weasley. Charlie was the boy who was always hanging back. He had been at the school since the First Task, making sure the no harm was done to the animals. Not that the animals were the only ones in danger. Victor Krum was also there. He smiled in acknowledgment. When he said something to his date, one of the French girls, she also gave him a smile.

And then there was Potter. Standing there in dress robes that were better than almost anyone else wore. He also had a corsage to present to his date. One more thing that Draco forgot. And now that he remembered, he noticed that almost every girl he saw had a corsage as well. Draco decided now it was time for more panic.

As he panicked, things became worse. Hermione suddenly appeared at the top of the stair. She was beautiful. She had a strapless silver dress that set off her hair which had been straightened. With an elegant shake of her head, the hair gently flew off her shoulder. As she reached the bottom of the stair, Justin stepped up from where he had been hidden from view. His dress robes matched, if not bettered, what Potter wore. As Draco watched, Justin reached out a hand to help Hermione descend the last step. He presented her with the corsage of flowers and slipped it over her wrist where the bands held it in place. They looked the perfect couple.

He watched as they entered the Great Hall, then turned back to the stair which was being watched by an ever thinning crowd. And he saw Ginny with someone. A sense of relief that he would have a real date. His face hardened as he saw who it was. The girl from Ravenclaw. The long dirty-blond hair was combed and tied back with a yellow ribbon that matched the dress she wore. It wasn't a ball gown by any stretch of the imagination, but it was clean. Draco's first reaction was that was Potter's doing. The second thing he noticed was that her boots did not match the dress. They were her normal worn-brown pair that she wore almost every day.

And Draco sighed. He was wearing his old black shoes, the only pair of shoes he owned, although he owned two pairs of trainers. If anyone looked at their feet, they would see a perfectly matched couple. Ignoring the snickers that always seemed to follow her, Luna Lovegood walked down the staircase as though she were on her way to breakfast.

Draco walked forward as Luna and Ginny neared the bottom of the stairs. One quick glance at Potter, who gave him a smirk, then he turned back to his date. I am Draco Malfoy, Draco said to himself. This is the person I want to go to the Yule Ball with. And I will make everyone believe it.

Potter held out his hand to Ginny, stopping her as he presented her with the corsage he had. Draco looked up at Luna and held out an empty hand for her to take. At least he could escort her for the last step. She took his hand.

"Good. Ginny told you then." Before Draco could respond, Luna turned to Harry Potter. "I don't mean to be rude but I hate the idea of cutting up flowers just for decoration. They're much prettier when they're still alive in the ground."

Luna stepped off the last step and put her arm in Draco's as they went to join the other champions. "I saw you wore your old shoes. I wore my boots. With all the dancing we may be doing, I don't want to end the night with sore feet. Not that I care for dancing all that much. But you can't be too careful."

Draco was in heaven. This girl was saying exactly the right things to cover Draco's social blunders. This was going to be a wonderful night.

"The last thing we need is to attract Jixxles." Luna added needlessly.

"Definitely," Draco agreed, although he had no idea about what. He corrected his previous thought. This was going to be an interesting night.

"Is everyone ready?" Professor McGonagall asked. She tried to hide her surprise as she spied the girl standing next to Draco. He correctly defined her look as though she was saying he must have been truly desperate. "Form a line and walk forward into the Great Hall as you are announced."

Draco and Luna stood last and waited their turn. They entered together to minimal applause and took their place on the dance floor. The music began. Draco guessed it was a waltz. That was when he understood that he had no idea what to do.

"I don't want to dance like that," Luna said, as the others began to slowly dance arm in arm. "I like something more airy."

Knowing he had nothing to lose, Draco cheerfully suggested that she lead. Luna returned his smile and began to move. His arm around her waist and his hand held out to clutch hers, they suddenly began to whirl around the dance floor. Luna was humming a tune at a slightly faster pace than the music being played. Draco followed her lead. They would pause to twirl in place, then begin again with the dance, almost running around the edges while spinning around each other. They fell into a rhythm and Luna stopped humming. The music had picked up to match their pace. And as the music built up to its conclusion, the two stood in place, spinning in a tight circle, Draco standing almost still while holding Luna so she did not fly away. As the final note faded, they slowed and stopped. It was an exhausting and exhilarating dance.

"You are making your own rules, again," Victor Krum said to them as other couples entered the dance floor. Victor's date, in her French accent, said they were good rules.

Draco had to smile. He turned back to Luna to ask, "again?"

"They're going to play different music now. Are you thirsty?" She looked up of a sudden. "Is that mistletoe?"

"Um, yeah," Draco said nervously.

"We'd better walk around it. It could be infested with Nargles."

* * *

Talking with Luna was an experience. Her conversations rarely made sense, although she frequently talked about hunting Crumpled Corn Snacks or something like that. After agreeing to another dance, which again involved making themselves as exhausted as possible, they sat again, this time with Ginny and Potter. Potter, in a generous tone, excused himself. He wanted to talk to the band while they were between sets.

Draco paused to look around. Hagrid was talking with the Beaubatons headmistress. As both were extremely tall, it was hard not to notice them. He spotted his godfather at a table near the doors, a bottle of butterbeer in his hand. He raised it in a toast. Draco grabbed his own bottle and returned it. He turned back to see George and Angelina.

"Just a warning," George whispered, nodding his head toward the stage. "We saw Harry with something that looked like it belonged to you." He made a strumming motion with his hand.

Draco frowned. What would Potter be doing with his guitar? As Potter returned, with a handful of bottles, he gave Draco a smile. He then offered him a fresh butterbeer. As he handed Draco the bottle, the leader of the band walked up to the microphone on stage.

"We were told that we're not the only musicians, here," the man said. "And we have it on good authority that there's someone here who can match us note for note."

Draco grew pale as it became clear what Potter had done. The man was praising the as yet unnamed music star, giving broad hints that he is well know for breaking the rules. But. Draco had been playing the guitar for five months. The song he played the best was over the hills and far away. He could strum two songs, almost three. And those songs were personal favorites that were also fairly easy. And neither of them were as fast paced as the slowest songs played so far tonight. He looked to see the lead singer holding up his guitar and asking Draco Malfoy to come up on stage. To be humiliated, Draco thought as he stood up. But before he could take a step, Luna grabbed his hand.

"Give them what they don't expect."

Draco nodded. They would not be expecting anything from him.

Now he was on the stage. Everyone was looking at him but the lighting made the audience almost invisible. Draco took his acoustic guitar and put the strap around his neck. He strummed to make sure it was in tune. As he finished, the lead singer asked him what he was going to play. Draco told him the name of the song. Hallelujah.

_I heard there was a secret chord / that David played to please the lord_

He kept his voice even. Almost a monotone. Forcing everyone to be quiet in order to hear. As he sang, he slowly raised his voice but did his best to make no inflection.

_But you don't really care for music, do ya._

_It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth / the minor fall, the major lift / The baffled king composes Hallelujah_

He kept his voice steady as his fingers played the chords. The chords to half the songs he knew

_Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelu—jah_

His voice changed as he sang the second verse. More correctly, the verse he decided to sing second. He let a touch of anger into his voice, enough to give a harsh tone to the lyrics.

_I know that I've been here before / I've seen this room, I've walked this floor / I used to live alone before I knew ya_

Memories came to mind as he sang the words. Places he had been. The song was supposed to have sexual references but that never came to mind. Not for him. It always became a smattering of images, connected to words in the song. Of places and people. The next line always reminded him of Alastor Moody. When hr won the cup for his house.

_I've seen your flag on the marble arch _

Somehow he felt Luna looking at him. Or he thought he did. The next line was sung directly to her, the anger in his voice fading to resignation.

_Love is not a victory march / it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelu—jah_

Now he was back to his memories, the resignation tinted strongly with sadness and cynicism as he pictured Alastor Moody making his plans

_There was a time you let me know what was going on below_

And a reflection of the funeral service

_But now you never show it to me, do ya_

Images of Janice entered his head, early memories of her teaching him to read . . .

_Remember when I moved in you_

. . . Walking down the stairs to confront Professor Quirrell in front of the mirror of Erised . . .

_The holy dark was moving too_

. . . and through the Chamber to confront Tom Riddle

_ And every breath we took was Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelu—jah_

His voice became melancholy. He reflected on the fact that someone who was not named wished him dead in the long run.

_You say I took the name in vain / But I don't even know the name / And if I did, then tell me, what's it to ya._

As he sang the next line, he had a revelation.

_There was a blaze of light in every word / It doesn't matter what you heard_

God and Devil both be damned, he was not going to survive his final confrontation.

_The holy or the broken Hallelujah_

The memories died and Draco's voice lost the sadness but still had the cynical tone.

_Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelu—jah_

This final verse was all about himself. About how he saw the world. And how he believed the world saw him.

_Maybe there's a God above / but all I ever learned from love / was how to shoot someone who outdrew ya_

_And it's not a cry you hear at night / It's not someone who's seen the light / It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

The final chorus was sung almost as though if he weren't singing he would be crying.

_Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelu—jah_

As he repeated the chorus he changed his tone to a sense of happiness. Happiness that it was over.

_Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallelujah / Hallel---u—jah_

* * *

The first thing that Draco heard was nothing. No one made a sound. Then the applause started. It was not a thunderous applause, but a scattered affair. And it quickly died. Draco was already walking from the stage. He thought to himself that Luna would be happy. They didn't expect that. As he reached the edge and began to climb down, one of the musicians stopped him. The guitarist.

"That was a muggle song?"

"Mixed up the verses. Make it fit me more."

"Mind if I use it? I already know the tune. It's in C major?" He played F, G, A minor, F. "The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift."

"It's not mine, anyway."

Draco returned to where Luna and Ginny were sitting. Hermione and Justin had joined them. He was stopped by a couple of students along the way who wanted to tell him they were impressed. Three other students didn't stop him but made comments to show his performance wasn't appreciated. Others who were with them would agree. He arrived at the table, happy to have some distance between himself and the crowd.

"I knew you'd play that song," Hermione told him, giving her best smile.

"Where's Potter? He can take my guitar back to the dorm."

Justin smiled, "We'll do that if you like. Potter made himself scarce when you didn't fall on your face. You would have if they wanted an encore."

Draco had to smirk. "Didn't even want me up there."

"It was Alastor Moody," Luna said. "The song."

Draco looked surprised. Loony Lovegood spent most of the dance talking about things that were fantasies in her own mind. Yet she understood something he had never mentioned to anyone. He had to challenge her. "What tipped you off?"

"When you said you used to live alone. It was rather obvious."

"Uh, yeah, care to dance."

Luna stood up. "No, but you do and that's more important." She took his hand and led him to the dance floor. He had a brief glance of four surprised faces as he turned to follow his date.

It was a slow dance, and Luna led him through it, letting him go through the motions. When he decided to smile, she told him, "I warned you about the nargles. Hopefully you've shaken them off by now. They can be very annoying." Draco smiled for real. Everything was back to normal.

Near the end of the dance, Draco found himself with Victor Krum. Victor commented on the thoughtful song. Would he care to join them after the Ball? His date voiced her approval. She wanted to know how much of what Victor had told her was the truth. Draco couldn't help himself. He told her none of it was.

* * *

"It's over," Luna said as the notes from the last song died away. "Good night."

Draco watched as she walked out as though class had just finished. He was right. It had been an interesting night. He walked back to where he had left his guitar.

"Mister Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said as she approached him. "Your date left abruptly."

"The Ball's over. She doesn't have to be my date, anymore."

McGonagall kept a straight face. "I did want to comment on your choice of song. While it was . . . nice, couldn't you have played something more appropriate to the season."

"Can't. Only have two songs I can play. Didn't think anyone would care to hear the other one."

"Then your appearance was unplanned?"

"By me? Yeah." Draco picked up his guitar, politely said goodnight, and made his way out of the Great Hall. There he found his godfather waiting for him. As usual, the man was smiling.

"Interesting song," Rodolphus told him. "I enjoyed all the sexual references. And most of the students did as well."

"They showed me by their wild applause."

Rodolphus Lestrange laughed. "Applaud you? The next Dark Lord? The flagrant cheater who tricked his way into the tournament? I'm surprised they didn't shout you off the stage once they realized you weren't going to embarrass yourself. That is what they wanted, you know."

Draco acknowledged the truth of the statement. Potter may have set him up, but plenty of students gave him moral support. "And I ruined it by being half decent."

"You made them think, boy," Rodolphus hissed. "They'll hate you even more for that. Anger is supposed to be mindless, to be pure emotion, and you forced reason on them." His smile had a sense of evil. "Had you played some ditty for them, they could have scoffed at you with no difficulty at all." He patted Draco's shoulder. "This is sure to add to the chaos when the matter breaks. Good work."

Draco returned the smile. Uncle Rodolphus always reminded him. The government was falling. An orderly transition made the two of them useless. But if it fell the right way, they had a chance at survival.

"A Happy Christmas to you, Godfather."

* * *

It couldn't be helped, Draco thought. At least the Ball was over. He had stepped out of the Great Hall to see Sirius Black waiting for him. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were with him. Harry was frowning. Ginny was smirking. As he walked over to them, Ginny said, "Loved your song."

"It was interesting," Black noted, "Don't you agree, Harry?"

Potter continued to frown.

"Harry, since you carried Draco's guitar down for him, why don't you take it back up to the dorms." Black's voice became slightly angry. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to it."

"I can carry it, me self," Draco sneered.

Black made a gesture, while not obscene, that told Potter he should leave at once. Potter did not argue. He never wanted to stay in the first place. Ginny, very much amused, waved goodbye to Draco before she left to follow her date.

"Whachuwant" Draco mumbled, once they were alone.

Sirius Black pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "I don't need to talk to Lillian to understand what this means. Although I did ask her to talk to Justin's father."

Draco shuddered. "W-Whot happened?"

"Nothing. And that is what's happening."

Sirius Black started to explain what he meant when Hermione and Justin walked up. Curiously, Viktor Krum and his date were waiting not that far away. Apparently, they had been given the same invitation and accepted.

Black smiled at them and assured them there was no problem. He was taking Draco to visit some friends. Hermione hugged Draco and told him to give Janice and Mick her best wishes. Justin patted his friend's shoulder and wished him a great holiday. Draco watched as they, with Krum and his date, exited the castle.

"You takin' me 'ome?" Draco asked. "Why?"

"If you'd rather not go . . ." Sirius asked, sarcastically. He didn't wait for an answer. He held up Draco's backpack from out of nowhere. "I'll carry this for you. We can't apparate until we reach Hogsmeade."

Draco asked his question again as they rode in the waiting coach. Why? Why do something nice for someone you don't like. Sirius gave a short laugh and asked a question of his own.

"What makes you think I'm doing this for you?"

* * *

Draco knocked on the door, trying not to be too loud. Janice answered the door almost at once, claiming he was right on time. She hugged him before she would let him in the door. And she asked Sirius to join them while grabbing his hand so he couldn't walk away.

He could tell. Maybe it was because of how he grew up. As soon as he walked into the house, Draco knew. This was a house where poor people lived. The Christmas tree was there, but it was the same tree as last year. The one in the pot. The one that never seemed to grow. But the stockings weren't there. The stockings where the little treats or small toys would go.

"Mick?" Draco asked.

Janice didn't have to explain. "Picked up a bitta 'oliday work." Then she decided she did. "People talkin' 'bout us, you know. News bloke even found out 'bout Cherry. Asked me, wit' a camera, 'bout her, an' 'bout Cheryl."

"Bashed 'im? Right?" Draco asked, but he knew the answer. Not that he could say anything. After a pause, he tried to change the subject. "'ow?"

"Sleepin'. Ain't worried 'bout Andy. Too young. But Cheryl. Remembers last year." Janice was laughing and crying at the same time. "You'll be a right treat, Draco." She hugged him again. And she said, "thank you", but not to him.

Janice ushered them both into chairs by the fireplace and threw in a piece of wood. She then told them she was making tea. Sirius made an "oh" sound and reached into his pocket for a box. He said his girlfriend thought it would make a nice gift, and since she mentioned tea. Draco couldn't help saying, as Janice reached for the box of 'assorted teas', that gifts are supposed to be wrapped.

It worked. Draco had said exactly the right thing exactly the right way. Janice took the gift without feeling conscious at all. The tea was hot and wonderful. And Draco provided the entertainment by describing his evening. No one was planning on sleeping tonight.

It was when Janice went to get everyone a second cup. Once she entered the kitchen, Draco excused himself. He picked up his backpack and quietly slipped up the stairs. He needed to check on something. He needed to make sure that everything was in his backpack that he normally carried. Satisfied, he stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the two other doors. He carefully opened one. Moody's old bedroom. The crib was in one corner. In it was a young boy. _This is how old I was when my parents died._ He reached down and made an unnecessary adjustment to the blanket. Just to make sure everything was fine. He couldn't help himself. He smiled as he whispered, "Merry Christmas, Sonny Jim" to the sleeping boy.

As quietly as he could, he slipped out of the room and closed the door. As though it was required, he walked to the other door. He turned the knob, and softly entered what used to be his bedroom. His first thought was that it was now a girl's room. It was millions of miles away from Jennifer Finch-Fletchley's bedroom, but it was still clearly and obviously inhabited by a girl. And the only real difference that Draco could tell was that the windows had curtains.

And Cheryl. Almost three. Dreaming of anything and everything.

This wasn't how Draco planned it. This part was pure impulse. He opened his backpack and pulled out the plastic container on the bottom. The one with the window. It was his first gift. He kept it with him so they could never take it away. It was a compulsion. He had to make sure that no one ever took it.

It took less than a minute. Draco left the room. The box he had carried for so many years was now empty. And a little girl would wake up on Christmas Morning with a doll tucked under her arm.


	21. Around the House

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed Draco's career as a rock star. As far as this chapter is concerned, I need to ask a question. (Truthfully I don't need to ask anything.) Have you ever heard the phrase, 'getting more than you bargained for'. In this chapter, Draco learns the meaning of that phrase without really learning anything from it.

My apologies for not responding to recent reviews. I had the pleasure of getting the flu and spending most of my time in bed or sitting and staring at the computer. I did try to respond to one review, but gave up after twenty minutes because I could not think of what to say. I thank you, Nanchih, Toraus and Steve2, for your comments.

One last thing, I was reviewing a story today and the Author had asked people to point out any spelling errors. I found one. He called the Head of Beaubaton, Madame Maxine. When I corrected him I realized that if you capitalize both letters in her name you get "Maxi Me".

If any of you are thinking of doing an Austin Powers crossover, there's a plot bunny for you.

Chapter 21: Around The House

_ Draco came down late to breakfast, but at least he finally had some rest. A couple of hours in an old armchair did not make for a full night's sleep. And yesterday was a busy day. He sat down next to Justin when he waved him over. Hermione was there, along with Susan Bones and most of the Weasleys. Luna Lovegood was also part of the group, sitting next to Ginny Weasley. They were at the end of the group or perhaps the beginning of the next group._

_ Since it was the holiday, no one bothered about the rules for sitting with one's house._

_ "Yesterday?" Justin asked._

_ "It was fun," Draco admitted. "Weren't the fanciest Christmas, mind. You know things are slow for Mick."_

_ It was almost funny. Draco knew that Justin was aware of what was going on, and a flicker on her features showed that Hermione knew. An understanding nod let him know that the twins were aware as well. A small surprise was when Susan Bones lowered her eyes. It was something to ask Justin about when he had a chance._

_ "You were a tad chummy with Sirius Black," Fred noted with a laugh. "Someone hit you with a Confundus Charm?"_

_ "Naw," Draco said casually. "'e did a favour is all. Took me 'ome for Christmas, for no other reason than to be nice. Din't do it for me, though. An' I know 'e tol' all of you."_

_ Ron Weasley snorted. "Yeah, no one told me. They only stole some of my presents."_

* * *

"Mummy!" an excited voice said as a young girl came clomping down the stairs. "Father Christmas came! Look! A dolly!"

Draco, barely asleep in the chair by the fireplace, heard every exclamation point. The steps came nearer and the voice became louder.

"DRAGON!"

The moppet flung herself onto his lap before he had his eyes open.

"Who's he?"

Draco looked over at Sirius Black who seemed too wide awake. "Cheryl, this is Mister Black. He's from my school. He gave me a ride."

Cheryl whispered, quite loudly, "Is he a frien'?"

Draco whispered, just as loud, "Frien' of Mum."

Sirius Black arched an eyebrow, but smiled as the girl looked at him with delight. Someone else to play with. Maybe.

"Call me Sirius."

Janice walked down the stairs a few minutes later. Andy was in her arms. At once he looked over at the strangers. She walked up to Sirius Black. "Hold 'im while I make breakfast?"

Draco almost laughed as Sirius took the baby, holding it in front of him as though he had no idea what to do. The baby started to whimper.

"Put 'im in your lap. An' talk to 'im."

Sirius moved the boy onto his lap. Andy scrunched around so he could look up, and started to pout.

"Talk to 'im," Draco repeated.

"About what?" The man was incredulous. "He won't understand anything I say."

"Don't matter. 'e jus' wants attention. An' start quick or 'e'll start bawlin'."

Draco sat back as he and Cheryl listened to Sirius Black ramble on about who he was and how he lived in London. When Sirius saw how Andy reacted to his voice, he started making exaggerated noises and moving his free arm as he began to describe his house. When he mentioned the staircase, he moved his hand upward. Andy cooed with delight. He smiled as Sirius snuggled him closer for more support. And reached up to grab his beard as the man began describing the room with his family tree.

Cheryl interrupted and pointed to her family tree, sitting in the corner with packages underneath. Sirius told her that his tree was painted on the walls. Cheryl sat up and pointed. A new packaged had appeared under the tree.

Sirius Black smiled. "Father Christmas must have forgotten one. Too bad we were so busy talking. We missed our best chance to see him."

Cheryl pouted, but Draco gave her a hug. "Good thing, too. If he knew we'd see 'im, we'd 'ave to wait a whole 'nuther year to get that present."

* * *

_"How were things, really?" Hermione asked. "I know money is tight."_

_ "Well," Draco drawled, "Mick got to be an elf for the holiday. Made a few Quid. Not that they have to worry. House was stocked with food. They could probably last until the summer on what they have."_

_ "Seriously?" Justin asked in surprise._

_ "We had three great meals," Draco assured them. "Sirius was there. You can ask him."_

_ "Sirius? You're calling him by his first name."_

* * *

Janice came out of the kitchen with a small jar, a spoon and a bib. "Draco?" Cheryl removed herself from his lap as Draco went into the kitchen to finish with breakfast. He noticed five plates. That meant that Mick should be home soon. That was good news. Eggs and bacon were almost ready. Toast was on the oven staying warm. He looked at the butter and opened the icebox to grab another stick.

It was almost empty. A bottle of milk. A loaf of bread. Half a jar of jam.

He returned to the stove and checked on the eggs, made sure they were scrambled well and took them off the heat. He pulled the bacon out of the frying pan and set them on the paper towel so it would soak up the grease. Then he searched the kitchen. The bread box had half a loaf. And a cup filled with used tea bags, to be used again. And a piece of a newspaper, hidden away as though in a hurry. An article. About Mick the Thief. It ended with the note that his help was no longer requested by certain parties. Knowing what to expect, he opened the cupboard. A few cans. Some baby food. Enough to easily last a full day.

Janice had said things were bad. This was worse than he thought. And they didn't have Miss Carmichael anymore to help. His first thought was to extend the food, to make it seem more than it was. He crumpled the bacon and mixed it in with the eggs. It would go further that way. As for the butter, it would have to be scrape toast. He smiled as he did his best to make the breakfast look as good as possible. Inside, he was angry. If he had his way, he'd stock the entire kitchen from Hogwarts. He knew the house elves would be happy to give him anything he asked for. He grinned as he remembered visiting the kitchens at Hogwarts. The house elves were begging him to have some food. To take some with him. And as soon as he returned to school, he knew what he would do. He'd call Kreacher . . .

Draco paused. Cheryl said that a package suddenly appeared. It couldn't have been the floo network. He took a chance that he understood who delivered that packaged. His voice was low but urgent.

"Kreacher?"

A popping noise was heard. Draco hoped he was the only one who heard. He turned around to see the house elf standing there.

"Kreacher stayed in case Master needed him."

Draco smiled. "Is there plenty of extra food at Hogwarts?" He continued to smile as he explained his plan. It was going to be a long winter. Things weren't going well. There was no cheese to go with the eggs. There was hardly any butter for the toast. And Mick working the holiday just for some bread.

Kreacher was reluctant until Draco told him he also had to keep track of how much everything cost so that Hogwarts could be payed back. And gave him a doubtful look when he lied and said it was Sirius Black's idea to begin with. "And it is Christmas."

After Draco said "please", Kreacher promised he would take care of everything. He snapped his fingers so that the food was hot again, then disappeared with a loud pooping noise. Draco cheerfully started filling the plates as he thought about what a wonderful surprise it would be.

Janice walked into the kitchen holding Andy, asking what the noise was. Draco held up a plate to hand to her as he said it was nothing. Kreacher appeared again holding a plate of his own that had five small wedges of cheese. His other hand held a tub of butter. Janice gasped as she saw the small creature with what looked like a towel wrapped around his waist Andy laughed in delight. Kreacher smiled. "To help with breakfast."

Draco stood there. All eyes were not on him. "Um, Janice, this is Kreacher. He's me 'ouse elf. Kreacher, this is me sister, Janice." He pointed at the baby. "That's Andy."

He pointed behind Janice at the new face that appeared. "That's Cheryl."

And now the fireworks, Draco thought as Sirius Black walked up. They were all curious about the popping noises. "And you know Sirius Black."

Kreacher bowed to everyone, saying how pleased he was to meet master's family. Then he looked up at Sirius Black. And told him it was good that he thought of other people. He did not smile but he did not scowl. As for Sirius Black, the last thing he expected was a kind word from his former servant.

Kreacher disappeared. Everyone's eyes bulged. Except Sirius Black.

"Where did . . . Kreacher go? And why didn't he snarl at me?"

"Don't you know?" Draco said in surprise. "It was your idea."

"Fancy voice," Janice said, "'e mus' be lying."

"Of course he's lying," Sirius retorted. "His lips are moving."

"Crisp it, Janice, were 'im. 'e brought me cat and all for the tin . . . You know what I mean."

"Cat for the tin?" Sirius asked, but Janice laughed at him. Andy laughed at his mother's smile.

"Made Draco t'ink," Janice said carefully. "'e couldn't decide to tell the truth or lie." She tried to frown at Draco. "An' no cursin' 'roun' the lil'uns."

"Right," Draco said, then muttered, "at least the breakfast's cold. Again."

The sound of a door opening was all that was needed to change the subject. And the mood. Cheryl was already running while shouting 'DADDY'. Even Andy was making noises as he recognized the new adult in the house. And in the doorway, Draco was laughing as Mick stood there in a hallmark moment: Hugging his wife who was holding their son, while their daughter hugged his knee. Even the green elf hat with the bell seemed to fit in.

Sirius Black glared at Draco while the family greeted the returning husband. He saw how Draco eyed the cabinets and the ice box. "Empty?" he asked and the boy nodded. "And what was my idea?" He actually smiled at Draco as they stepped out of the kitchen.

Mick looked up after the hug ended. He wished Sirius a Happy Christmas, then shouted, "DRAGON, you made it."

As Mick walked forward, family in tow, a half dozen popping noises were heard coming from behind Draco. From the kitchen. There were bangs and rattles but no crashes. Draco looked back to see a chaos of magic then turned back to everyone else. He smiled at Mick and said that it was a final Christmas gift. Did he mind the use of magic?

The lights went out. Not that it was a problem during the day. "It was Sirius' idea."

Sirius Black looked back toward the kitchen. "You're not blaming me for that."

"DRACO?" Janice was worried.

Cheryl ran up to the kitchen doorway and looked in. She turned to Draco with a smile filled with wonder. When she looked back at her mother, Janice had to step forward. Mick came with her.

"What?" Mick said. Draco looked over his shoulder to see what what was . A house elf, not Kreacher, was hovering over the five breakfast plates. The cheese shredded itself and mixed in with the scrambled eggs and bacon. Toast, which was buttering itself, flew onto each plate. A pitcher was pouring five glasses of orange juice. And steam was coming off the eggs, which were hot again. All this time, things in the kitchen were rearranging themselves.

Once everything fell quiet, one of the elves closed the door on them. A clunk was heard. Mick said it was the main power switch. There were several popping noises (hopefully, house elves returning to Hogwarts). There was an audible sound of someone snapping his fingers, followed by the clunking noise of the main switch. The lights came back on and Kreacher opened the door. He was smiling.

Draco walked into the kitchen. Because it was closest, he opened the breadbox. The bread and the tea bags were still there. Mick who was on the other side of the table, pulled open the cupboard to look at the shelves. That was all this cupboard was, a set of shelves stuck in the wall with a door to cover them. And that is what it was, as in the past tense. It was now a walk-in storage room.

Sirius Black glanced at Draco and shook his head with a laugh. He knew what happened, and he knew why. He said to Mick and Janice, who were staring into the cupboard, "Since it was my idea, then I get to say Happy Christmas. And it's bad form to give back presents."

Mick nodded, almost laughing. It was a storage room and it was filled with food. And it was at least as big as the kitchen (which wasn't all that big, to be honest).

"Kreacher? Did you do this?" Draco asked.

"You mean the spell?" Sirius asked. "Probably left over from the cleaning. I would guess the preservation spells is still there, too, but I'll have to check."

"Kreacher checked," the house elf said with a sarcastic undertone.

There was a pause. Then Sirius Black said something completely unexpected. "Thank you, Kreacher."

"Draco?" Janice, staring at the sudden extra space, asked nervously, "what is all this about?"

"Moody was a wizard, remember?" Janice nodded. "Made sure that cupboard was as big as it needed to be and that nuffin innit went bad." He smiled at Mick. "Welcome to the world of magic."

"That is a barrel of potatoes," Janice said. Cheryl was on the floor looking at the glass jugs under the bottom shelf. She said, proudly pointing at the label, "It's a pumpkin!"

"Pumpkin juice," Draco said with a cringe. This was a lot of food. Someone was going to notice. "It's good, too."

Janice and Mick checked everything out. Besides the potatoes, there were plenty of other vegetables. There were also fruit, fresh and dried. And one corner held a more complete assortment of spices than either of them had ever seen.

Kreacher smiled when they looked at him. He ran to the cold box and opened it up so they could see. Draco glanced and saw what had to be two cases of butterbeer on the bottom shelf of the door. "I think he did the fridge, too."

Janice was staring inside at the freezer part. She was assured that she would find whatever she wanted within easy reach. Mick couldn't help himself. He stared at the door, then looked on the inside. He knelt down and watched the outside of the door while he reached inside as far back as he could and pulled out a bottle. He nodded to himself and said he could get used to magic like this. He looked at Draco, then Sirius, then Kreacher. He couldn't decide, so he said thanks to all of them. After he thanked Kreacher, the elf whispered to Mick, "There's more." He snapped his fingers and the doors to the two overhead storage cabinets on either side of the window both opened up.

One thing was obvious. The cabinets did not have the expansion spells on them. Which Draco thought was a good thing. This was where the sweets and snacks were stored. No fancy name candies, but all the bulk kinds that were at the feasts. And there were boxes. Kreacher said they contained cakes and pies and, yes, putting the preservation spell on the cabinets was what burned out all the fuses.

"MUM, can I have one of those?"

Janice was herself, again. "No, we're having breakfast first." She looked at the empty table.

"Kreacher already sat the table for Master's family."

As everyone walked back into the living area, the dining table was already set. Cheryl was already in her elevated chair by the time Draco walked out. Five plates had toast and equally proportioned servings of eggs, bacon and cheese. The five glasses of orange juice were set out. As well as five extra glasses and a pitcher or pumpkin juice. And a bowl of fruit. And a bowl of oatmeal. And smaller bowls of raisins and nuts. In the centre was one of those elevated trays with tarts and pastries.

"Draco?" Mick said in unbelief, "all this food? How?"

"Yes, Draco," Sirius Black said as he sat down. "What exactly did you say to Kreacher?" He reached for a cherry tart, his smile growing as Draco gave his answer.

"I told Kreacher to try to fill the cupboard and all as much as possible. Din't know 'bout the expansion spells. Honest."

"He's telling the truth," Sirius assured Mick and Janice. "He pronounced the aich."

* * *

_ Draco smiled as he remembered what happened. And how he explained to Sirius afterwards that he asked Kreacher to fill the shelves. He didn't know about the expansion spells. They were all supposed to be removed._

_ That remark made Sirius Black give an honest laugh. Only the personal protection spells were removed. They left the standard wards and such. It was still, on paper, a wizard's house. He promised to stop by and check to see what other spells might still be active._

_ "Is Janice a good cook?" Ron asked. Draco had mentioned they had three meals._

_ "Great," Draco said with enthusiasm. "She made a blackberry pie that smelled so good that we had it with breakfast instead of waiting."_

* * *

Breakfast was over. By this time the surprise over magic began to fade. An hour later, Mick was commenting on how tasty the butterbeer was. Sirius pointed out that there was no alcohol in it, making it safe for children. He then endeared himself to Cheryl, after getting a nod from Mick, by producing a glass and pouring some for her to taste. Draco noticed Kreacher who was watching Black. The house elf nodded his head in approval.

And presents! Draco felt bad. He knew what had happened. All of his gifts were forwarded to the house. And Mick insisted that he open them. Draco went to the tree and picked up the first gift. It had Hermione's handwriting on it. Draco risked looking at Sirius Black. The man was sitting there with the three-year-old girl on his lap. He lifted his glass in a toast. And a fourteen-year-old boy understood. The self-centered bastard who was his legal guardian had made plans of his own to help Mick and Janice enjoy their holiday. He told others of what he planned.

"Well," Mick asked, "What is it?"

"It's for Cheryl."

As Cheryl ran up to Draco to get her present, Sirius smiled. "You know, Mick, Draco made it a point to tell all of his friends where he was going. The sneak knew they'd want to give everyone something."

Mick smiled and gave his thanks to Draco. Draco handed him a gift. It was from Justin.

Janice laughed as Mick showed her what it was. A muggle book on the structure of British Government. She couldn't help but smile at Draco, at Sirius, even at Kreacher who was standing ready to fetch something if someone wanted. "Thank you for everything. How can we ever repay you, Sirius, for all that food?"

"Don't even think of it." Sirius was smiling. "Draco told me he'd take care of it."

* * *

_"And Sirius Black did all of this, just to be nice?" Fred was convinced there was a joke in there, somewhere._

_ "Told you. He didn't do it for me." Draco then did something remarkable. He had everyone thinking he was trying not to be embarrassed as he said, "He likes Janice. That makes him a'right, in my book."_

_ "He did it for Janice?" Justin asked._

_ "Yeah." Draco gave a snort. "Even invited his girlfriend to come over. She was there when I came back from pulling Andy and Cheryl around on the sled."_

_ Draco grinned as everyone shared his smirk about Sirius having a girlfriend._

* * *

It was almost noon. Andy was taking his nap. Cheryl was in the kitchen with Janice, trying to help decide what was for lunch. She had already complained that there wasn't enough snow so that Draco could pull her on the sled. As Mummy looked at her, she added, "and Andy, I guess." For three, she was a smart little girl.

Draco sat with Mick and Sirius as everyone's smile faded.

"According to the party, you're being attacked because you're the easiest target. And you have no way of fighting back." Sirius was handing Mick a letter from Justin's dad. "I was told that the timing is tricky, but those contain the papers you need to file. And a check to pay for the fees."

Mick was laughing. "An' they want me? Won't win. You know that."

Sirius laughed as well. "Everyone knows that. I even asked." The laugh became an evil grin. "He told me it gives you a place to stand. They may not listen but they can't shut you up."

Draco had to ask. "Win whot?"

Sirius smiled at the chance to tell Draco something that he would have to listen to. "There's a by-election in two weeks. I was told that Mick has until tomorrow noon to put his name in."

If Draco were slightly less surprised, he would have been gobsmacked. "Mick? Sittin' for Parliament?"

"Won't win it," Mick assured him again. "Man ran uncontested last twenty years."

"Then why the by?"

"Even the experts make mistakes," Sirius told him. "The papers were not filed correctly, or so I'm told. Some kind of clerical error. And everyone agrees. The man is guaranteed to win."

"Then why run?"

Mick laughed the loudest. "I'm standin' for a seat. I can say anythin' I want."

Draco pulled the article out of his pocket. Mick nodded. " It's easy to shout a man down when 'e can't talk back. Now I'll 'ave a right to talk."

There was a knock at the door. Sirius Black's eyes lit up. Draco knew why. Black's partner was supposed to be coming by. And strong rumours had it that they were becoming more than working partners.

Evelyn Brown also brought gifts with her. Draco's gift was a book called. 'The Elements of Psychology'.

It had gone four when everyone said their goodbyes. Cheryl insisted on hugging Kreacher and managed to make the elf blush by asking him to please stay. He apparated back to Hogwarts after promising to visit. He promised only after Draco said he could only visit if he wanted to.

"Got a favour to ask," Draco said as he left with Sirius Black and Evelyn Brown. He reminded the man of what Janice had said the previous night (early that morning) about the reporter. He also reminded him of what Rita Skeeter did to that young upstart. He had done so many good things for his family, he wanted to try for one more.

"And you want to feed him a false story?"

"Naw. I wanna ask an expert what I should do."

What Janice had told him had been gnawing at him all day. And Sirius Black was acting so decent, Draco was convinced the man must have felt the same way. Now Black was giving him a look that he didn't understand. But Evelyn apparently did.

"I have my car. Should I drive or just meet you there?"

"Let's take the car to London," Sirius suggested. "We can discuss the matter on the way."

"You're going to help?" Draco was honestly surprised.

"You make it sound like you were the only one who was offended."

Evelyn was smiling as she opened the boot for Draco to put in his guitar and his presents. "This should be fun. I get to be in at the start of another Marauder adventure, instead of just hearing about it."

* * *

Rita Skeeter smiled as Draco appeared with his guardian at the offices of the Daily Prophet. She made an idle comment that a reporter never gets any time off. Her teeth gleamed when Draco asked to speak to her in private. With his guardian, of course. Rita led him to her office, pausing to tell another reporter as they passed each other, "Phineas, you should always try to interview the people you talk to."

The door closed of its own accord. Rita told them that there was a permanent silence spell on the room. And she wanted an exclusive interview on demand for her help. What did they want? Draco explained it was a matter of revenge. He told her about the television interview. The one where the man almost accused Janice of being a whore.

"Bottom feeder. That's what he is. You can't hurt him because he'll use it as a story. It's always win-win for people like that."

Draco frowned. "Can't do nuffin, then?"

"Talk to someone else. Tell them your version of the truth. Maybe they'll use it. Unless you've got a real story." Rita noticed Draco's head perk up. Her grin was ear to ear, "If it's any good, give it to someone else, and let them know it's because of what he did. It's a small slight, but that's the best you're going to do."

Sirius nudged Draco. "You do have a story. Until tomorrow."

Rita couldn't help giving one more piece of advice. "If you can, give the story to someone he already hates."

"Damn, she's good," Sirius said as they were walking out.

* * *

Draco had to admire how well Sirius and his partner worked together. Her specialty was obviously interacting with muggles. Evelyn Brown made three calls and had all the answers she needed. She knew where the mark was, and that there would be others there as well. Someone had been arrested as a terrorist when he tried to pay for his meal at a restaurant. Apparently, he had the same name as someone from the Balkans. She said she was told it was a feeding frenzy. Trying to dis him there wouldn't work. Then she told them that she contacted someone who would help.

"Good," Sirius said, "Let's get this over with."

Draco couldn't help himself when Sirius smiled at him. He had to smile back. For a second there, the man looked just like Mick when his friend was asking if he was ready to do the job.

They walked into the building. It housed the competition. Evelyn told the security guard at the desk that they had an appointment. She nodded toward Draco. "The name is Danny Malloy. And no, none of us have any identification." As he pressed a call button, the guard said they were expected.

A young lady came out and vouched for them. She was the emergency backup reporter in case more than two major events occurred during the holiday. She was also the reporter who did the entertainment fluff. Draco remembered seeing her on the news over the summer. She was interviewing the Teletubbies.

"Ev!" the lady said as she hugged Miss Brown. She looked at Sirius. "And is he the one you keep talking about?"

She introduced herself as Kate as she led them to the elevators and up to the floor where the interview room was. All the time, she kept making small talk. Including such bad puns as "I know he's Sirius but how serious is he?"

"We're friends. I keep getting involved in his work, so today he's been showing me how he has fun."

"And which one is this?" Kate asked.

"Both," Sirius answered.

They walked into the interview room and Kate became business. She casually introduced the camera man and the sound man, both names Draco never bothered to catch. She smiled at him as she had him sit down in a studio chair. She sat down in the other one.

"You've grown, Danny," the lady said. "And no more glasses?"

"An alias and a disguise, for my own protection," Draco drawled. "I've even practiced speaking with an accent, you know."

"I know why you're here, Danny. And the bad news is that no one cares. We'll do the interview. No need for makeup because we'll obscure your image. Shouldn't have to worry about your voice."

The sound man said they were ready as he stepped into the small booth. Sirius and Evelyn stood behind the cameraman. And Draco sat in a chair with a dark curtain behind him. He was surprised at how small an area it was.

Then Kate asked the first question. "What prompted you to contact us?"

"Yeah, I saw this Christmas piece about me frien'. Bloke din't call 'er a whore. Jus' made people t'ink it."

Kate was asking the right questions. How did he know the girl in the 'interview'? How did he know her husband, Mick? How did she know the girl, Cherry? It took fifteen minutes. Draco gave her the facts that she could check out. Including doctors who could verify that Janice was her nurse and not her partner in crime.

"That's it," Kate called out. She thanked Draco and promised she would polish the story and run it by her boss. It might get some air play.

That was when, according to Rita, he should dangle his hook. Sirius Black had the honour. He was the one who gave Kate a piece of paper. He said the address on it was where candidates registered for ta certain by-election. The office opened at ten. Mick planned to hand in the proper forms by twelve.

The lady took the bait. She called out, "Guys, we need a van, completely packed. I'm talking to the first suit I find, right now."

Draco wished Kate a good night. Evelyn told her to call if she needed help in verifying anything. As he left, Sirius asked her to say something uncomplimentary about the other reporter. Kate walked them to the elevator and sent them on their way. She had work to do.

As they walked back to the car, Sirius was beaming. "I haven't done anything like that in years. You know, Draco, I was your age when James and I . . . Better not tell you about that. Might give you ideas."

"So you and Potter were the Fred and George of your day?"

Sirius clapped Draco on the shoulder and said it was a good day. He then asked if they should spend the night at his house in London or head back to Hogwarts.

Draco was honest. He had more than a full day. He was tired. But he did not want to go to Grimauld Place. He would put up with the extra walking. And for all of lunch and breakfast, he missed dinner.

"I know this area," Evelyn said, "Anyone for Pizza?"

Draco did have one more question. How did Evelyn know Kate? She said that Kate was in her class. And when Draco expressed her surprise that she still went to school, she told him that the only reason to stop learning is because you're dead. She added that she wasn't even sure if that was true.

As it was, Draco finally collapsed in his own bed at Hogwarts shortly after midnight.

* * *

_"It was great," Draco told everyone, once again. "And Cheryl finally admitted, although only to me, that she loved her baby brother." He grinned as he explained, "she found out she can blame him for things."_

* * *

Two days later, at breakfast, the owls came to deliver the morning mail. Fifteen minutes later, Justin Finch-Fletchly stopped reading the newspaper and the note that came with it. He was holding a morning copy of the London Times to show Draco and Hermione. He was pointing at the picture. Two men, one distinguished looking, the other was Mick. The headline talked about the by-election. Did Draco know? Who else did Sirius tell? Just him and Mick?

"Din't even tell me," Draco lied. "An I was wit' Sirius the entire time. Cept when I was out wit' the kids. Why?"

Justin tried to explain. Word had leaked out, somehow. And it turns out that the people who found out just happened to be looking into a rival reporter's story about Janice. By the evening news, the story was headlining on BBC.

Draco replied in his usual manner.

"Whot?"

"It's like this," Justin tried to explain. "A lot of people were making noise about Mick's past because he became so popular after the thing with Saint Brutus. Just before Christmas, a reporter did a story about your sister and her close association with a known prostitute. Yesterday morning, outside the building where Mick had to go to register, a rival station is doing a live broadcast where they're lambasting the first reporter for blatant lies and tells everyone that Janice is a regular Florence Nightingale. Do you follow?"

"That's good, right?"

"It gets better," Justin said with sarcasm. "They show Mick walking into the building and announce that he's entering his name. Then, while he's inside, they cut to studio film of Mick and" Justin deliberately tapped the picture of the distinguished looking man, "and him. Including clips of him referring to lowlifes."

Justin tried to emphasis his next statement.

"Mick is being interviewed on CNN tonight."

"Yeah," Draco tried to smile, then frown. "What's the point?"

"It's a by-election, Draco. It doesn't matter who wins as far as party standing, all it does is give each side an idea of how well they're doing. But . . . BUT this one is making international news."

"Isn't that good?" Hermione asked. She seemed as unsure as Draco about what was going on. "It means that a lot of people are paying attention."

"Unless it becomes an embarrassment," Justin cautioned. "Mick has made plenty of small speeches." He laughed at a thought. "Father said they planned on giving Mick a soapbox. It turns out they gave him the Royal Albert Hall."

"Does Mick have a chance?" Draco asked. "To win?" To be honest, he didn't follow too much of what Justin was saying except that someone revealed something and it was going to cause a lot of problems. The only thing that Draco understood was that it would be best if he never let anyone know that he was that someone.

Justin shook his head. He knew Draco was smart but finally understood that there were things his mate wouldn't understand, if only because he didn't want to. He decided to try to explain polls.

Winning was doubtful. In the extreme. But the first polls where promising for the party as a whole. 56% for the Incumbent. 24% undecided. 20% for Mick. "That tells us that one in five people want someone new, and they don't care who that someone is. If the bloke retires, we could have a chance to take the seat."

Draco finished the sentence, "Unless Mick screws up."

"He won't," Hermione assured them. "He may not know the right words, but he knows what words not to say."

Draco liked Hermione for saying that, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about what Justin had said. All those people supported Mick just because he wasn't the other guy.

"Do you know how those news people found out?" Hermione asked.

Justin shrugged his shoulders. That part was a mystery.

"Master Draco?" Kreacher was standing next to him with a large parchment. "Here is the list of all the food and how much it cost. And Professor Dumbledore told Kreacher that if Master loses the contest, he will not have to pay."

"Food?" Hermione asked.

"It wasn't my idea," Draco lied.


	22. Happy New Year

Chapter 22: Happy New Year

Draco was in a good mood. Everyone praised Sirius Black for his clever idea to help out Draco's friends. And Draco received high marks for offering to pay for the food, should he win the tournament. And that remark always gave Hermione an excuse to ask him how he was doing on the second task. His current excuse was that it was the holidays. And that excuse was almost over.

It was now New Year's Day. There would be a small feast. In two days, the students would return and there would be another feast. And the morning after that, classes would begin. But that was then.

And this was now. Draco never even made it to breakfast. He was sitting in Dumbledore's office. With Professor Dumbledore were Professor McGonagall, Sirius Black, Justin Finch-Fletchley and someone he hadn't seen in a while, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Luckily, he had Hermione's moral support. As he was summoned from the common room she asked, "What did you do now?"

And now. Justin was glaring at him. "I don't believe you lied to me."

"Bout whot?"

"Please," Kingsley Shacklebolt asked. His tone said that everyone should shut up. It also said that he was in charge of this meeting. "Mister Malfoy, it is a deliberate violation of the Statute of Secrecy Act to interfere in muggle affairs, particularly when these affairs are Affairs of State. For a student to do this is normally answered by immediate expulsion. Except . . ." Kingsley gave an almost laughing smile.

"I can't be expelled," Draco answered with a smile of his own. Knowing full well what this meeting was all about, he asked, in his most innocent voice, "Do I get to know what I did before you compensate by giving me permanent detentions?"

"At least he knows what to expect," McGonagall muttered.

Sirius Black gave a cheerful laugh, "I was with Draco the entire time. I've already assured you that Draco did nothing wrong."

"As far as you know," Kingsley pointed out. "Draco has managed to be involved in things without people knowing," he looked pointedly at Sirius, "except for one or two others who are secretly helping him."

"Or three," Sirius reminded him. "I was in on that plan, as well."

"Sirius?" Kingsley was trying to get down to business.

"The boy will verify everything I've said."

Kingsley scowled at the interruption and turned back to Draco, "Shall we discuss this in detail."

"Why not," Draco answered. "That means there's plenty of time for everyone to start spreading rumours."

"Good Point," Kingsley acknowledged, "Brevity would be preferred. Mister Malfoy, you went to a muggle reporter and gave an interview immediately upon leaving your sister's house."

"Din't."

"I have seen the pictures."

"They was supposed to be skewed."

"They were. I even made it a point to watch the interview as it was displayed on muggle television. I didn't mention that fact when I talked to Sirius Black."

"Then he told you I din't do what you said," Draco insisted.

"YOU JUST ADMITTED THAT YOU DID!" Justin shouted.

"Not right off," Draco acknowledged.

Professor McGonagall put his hand on Justin's shoulder. It was enough to keep him silent. In a gentle but piercing tone she suggested, "Why don't we simply have Mister Malfoy tell us everything he did, in chronological order, from when he left his sister's house until his return to Hogwarts."

Draco noticed Sirius was giving him an 'I tried' look.

"Um, " Draco said.

"Um," Draco repeated. "Right. Left the 'ouse. Asked Black 'bout some reporter badmouthed Janice. 'e's supposed to be so clever, t'ought 'e'd 'ave an idea."

"I hope you don't mind," Kingsley asked calmly, "but could you repeat that in English?"

"I could translate," Justin offered.

"Crisp it, Justin," Draco cursed, "I'll tell 'im"

Sirius shouted, "HEY, you were told: No cursin' roun' the lil'uns," He had Janice's tone and accent down perfect. "Or your betters." He finally figured out what 'Crisp It' rhymed with.

"Right, fine," Draco fumed, "Crisp . . . y kippers. Fine, me fancy voice." He glared at Kingsley. "When we left, Sirius Black suggested we visit an expert. A muggle reporter had insulted my sister and I wanted revenge. That is why Sirius Black took me to the offices of the Daily Prophet. It was suggested, by a reporter, that the only chance I had for revenge would be to tell the truth to a rival reporter. That's when I went to give the interview."

Kingsley nodded. "Did you honestly think your efforts would be effective?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Rita told me it was doubtful when she gave me the advice. Kate told me it was doubtful when she gave me the interview. But she did promise to try." He paused as he understood. They knew. But they didn't have the actual proof. "I . . ." Draco tried to think. He couldn't lie or anything because if he were innocent he would still have no idea what was going on. "I'm sorry, Mister Shacklebolt. I honestly did not know I was doing anything wrong. After all, Sirius Black was there, as was his partner. Neither one said anything."

"It wasn't the interview," Kingsley informed him. "What did you say to the reporter after the interview?"

"Only goodbye," Draco admitted, "and after that, Sirius asked her to say something mean about the other bloke. And we left."

"And that was all?"

"Went out for a pizza. Then Sirius took me back to Hogwarts." He scowled. "And I walked back to the school all by myself in the cold, thank you very much." He was still scowling. "You still haven't told me what I've done."

"In a moment," Kingsley Shacklebolt insisted. "I must insist you tell me everything you did and said at the interview."

"If you saw the interview, you know what I said." Draco was angry, but mostly at himself. He finally figured an out. "You wanna know everyt'ing I did, I'll tell you." He took a deep breath and went back to the fancy voice. "First off, I did that interview. Next, I went to the loo. And yes, I will go into more detail if you want. I even washed my hands afterward." He paused. No one even laughed. "Then I said goodbye, followed Sirius to the elevator. Waited for the lift." He gave a sarcastic grin. "I even picked up a scrap of paper off the floor. No bins in the lobby, so that nice lady, Kate, offered to throw it away for me. And then we entered the elevator. After that I cleverly pressed the correct button to take us . . ."

"Piece of paper?" Sirius Black asked with a voice of impending dread. His eyes told Draco that the boy was a flippin' genius. "Was it?" He made a gesture with his fingers to suggest size. Draco nodded. Sirius, a true artist, wiped imaginary sweat from his brow as he almost shouted, "Bloody Hell."

Draco sneered. "Don' curse roun' the lil'uns."

Sirius was hanging his head. "It must have fallen out of my pocket. When I couldn't find it, I thought I had left it at the house." When he was asked what, Sirius waved a hand at Justin. "The instructions that his father gave me to give Mick."

Draco was proud of how surprised he sounded. "Whot?"

"You were right, Kingsley," Sirius said as he shook his head. "The boy did give the information to that reporter."

"Sorry, mate," Justin said. "Should have known you wouldn't lie to me."

"Could I ask," Draco insisted, "What is this all about?"

"The article I read to you," Justin reminded him. "No one knew how that reporter found out."

A real feeling of dread came over Draco. "How bad is it?"

"Mister Finch-Fletchley," Albus Dumbledore suggested, "Why don't you tell him over a late breakfast. There is no need for the two of you to stand out here any longer."

As Draco stood up, Kingsley was telling Sirius Black he would have to come with him.

"Why?" Draco turned around in an instant. "It were a mistake, you know that."

Kingsley turned to Draco. "He deliberately went to your house to deliver the information. That constitutes involvement."

"'e was goin' there anyway." Draco was trying not to yell. "'e was jus' the messenger. Can't fault 'im for lettin' a frien' spen' time wit' 'is family."

Kingsley did not appreciate the interruption. He scowled as he said. "I didn't follow a word you said, and I didn't like the tone."

"What Draco said . . ." Justin was also angry. He knew this part was true. ". . . was that Sirius Black only delivered the message so that MY father could spend the holiday with his family."

"Mister Finch-Fletchley, do you honestly believe that Sirius Black would want to take Draco Malfoy on a Christmas holiday and spend the day with him?"

"Not wit' me," Draco said with surprising humility. "Wit' 'is . . ." Draco took a deep breath. "With his goddaughter." Everyone had the reaction that he expected. They were all waiting for the punch line. "We're brother and sister because we said we were. When things started going bad for her and Mick, he promised to watch over them, over her. And he promised Janice that he would help me. He's her godfather because he says he is."

Draco told everyone the truth about things that happened during that Christmas stay. He mentioned Sirius telling Andy all about London, even though the kid couldn't understand a word. Sirius teasing Cheryl about Father Christmas.

Kingsley agreed to believe him provided he stopped with the sob stories.

"And he was doing a favour," Draco insisted, "for the Finch-Fletchley's."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was saying it didn't matter. If he meant to deliver the letter or whatever, he was deliberately involved. If it was only a favour, he was at fault for losing that piece of paper. Sirius Black was guilty one way or the other. They would grant him the benefit of the doubt that he didn't mean to drop that piece of paper.

"I know about politics," Justin was saying, "but how can you be sure that it was Mister Black? Someone could have seen them at the studio and used him as a cover for their own plan." It was an old tactic, Draco knew. It was called grasping at straws.

Two new thoughts entered Draco's head. Sirius Black was more involved with Mick and Janice than he had guessed. Also, Black had developed a close relationship with the Finch-Fletchleys.

Draco didn't know why he said what he did but he felt he had to do something. His motto was that if you didn't know any more lies, try telling the truth. And if the truth didn't help, just tell the biggest lie you can think of.

"Cause I saw 'im drop that paper, Justin. I even looked at it. An' I smiled like this at the reporter when I gave it to 'er." Draco smiled and put a finger up to his lips. "I saw that so-called interview with Janice."

He looked up at Professor Dumbledore. "You can't expel me, Sir, but you can't keep me here, either. With your permission, I'll return on the days of the next two tasks to fulfill my obligations. Then you will be done with me."

Draco turned to leave when he was told to stop. By Albus Dumbledore.

"I can keep you from leaving, Mister Malfoy. You are here by the order of your legal guardian. And he has not seen fit to give you permission."

"Also, Mister Malfoy," This was Kingsley Shacklebolt. "You have given me three different versions of the same story. And all of them are false. Will you tell me the truth?"

Draco looked at Kingsley with surprising calm. Kingsley Shacklebolt the mind reader. "No."

"And may I ask, why not?"

A pause, just long enough for a bitter smile to grace Draco's lips. "Saint Brutus." He turned his view to the headmaster. "Professor, with your permission I will return to breakfast."

* * *

Justin didn't even try to explain what was going to happen now that they understood how the secret got out, except that Sirius Black would not be used as a courier just because he was conveniently going there.

The by-election was becoming a major scandal. While no one could decide for which side, it was still all over the news. Mick admitting that he was being overwhelmed by the reaction his entry made, and his quick recover that he hoped the fireworks wouldn't drown out what he was trying to say. The incumbent was also expressing his surprise, and delight that it might energize the people into being more active.

Justin frowned as he passed on one bit of information. The reporter who gave that pre-Christmas interview was promoted to a supervisory position. Draco smiled. That meant the man didn't have a camera on him anymore. No more bylines.

Justin laughed. "You mean that they kicked him upstairs to get him out of the way?" It was the perfect revenge on an egotist.

* * *

Draco was in one of the greenhouse. The silver cup was perched on the guitar case. He was playing the scales on his guitar. He was becoming good at it. After a while, he opened his book to the new song he wanted to learn. He played the first notes slowly as he read them from the sheet. A thrill went through his body. He was playing the notes without much of a fumble. As he reached the chorus, someone walked in. Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The man stepped forward at a slow pace, as though he didn't want to interrupt. It seemed like it was planned when he stopped just as Draco finished the chorus. The boy looked up. The man was looking lazily at the guitar.

"Why did you insist on lying? Even when we knew you were lying" Kingsley asked. "I talked to the reporter. I looked into her mind."

"Why didn't you tell everyone the truth?"

"Because I remembered something. I wanted to make sure I was correct. It is about your memory."

Draco looked up. He felt like he wanted to cry but knew it would do no good. He didn't smile. He couldn't. With an effort, he nodded his head. Yes.

Kingsley nodded. He promised he would take care of things. As he left, Draco began to play the notes to the second stanza.

A beetle walked out from behind a potted plant. It transformed at once into Rita Skeeter. She picked up the cup and looked at it curiously. And she smiled as she asked Draco what it was that Kingsley wanted to know. Draco answered her in one word. Everything.

* * *

The next Sunday. Draco Malfoy is not at Hogwarts. He is in a car. Evelyn Brown is driving. Sirius Black is sitting next to her. And Draco is in the back seat. He is dressed neatly in a black suit, with a white shirt and a silver tie. He is wearing a pair of glasses with clear lenses. He has a gold earring in one ear. He is being taken to an interview.

The car pulls into a parking garage. Draco steps out and walks toward the lift. There is another car there, fancier. The chauffeur opens the door for Draco. There is an older man inside. Draco recognized him from his picture in the paper. The one next to Mick's.

"I hate cloak and dagger," the man said, "but you are too much of an enigma, Mister Malfoy."

"Thank you, Minister," Draco said in his fancy voice. "May I ask why we are meeting at all? It does seem odd."

"It is. And I will be direct. Your friend is single minded in his interest. He has even referenced Danny Malloy in several of his speeches. Simply to remind everyone about Saint Brutus Academy. My researchers have already chronicled his own stay there, but your stay? It was for such a brief period of time, yet it produced a great racket. I was curious."

Draco snarled. "You and your friends are going to reopen it. And you want to know why I cause all that racket? Ask my parole officer."

"Not the answer I expected," the Minister said. "Why would I ask a police officer?"

"He hates that place more than I do. It's a school, Sir, and the students learn their lessons well. And the guards give them plenty of reason to put their new skills into practice. Don't you know? Most graduates of Saint Brutus end up taking adult education in other fine British Institutions." He sneered. "After all, Scotland Yard arranged my return."

It was a nice speech. It was almost word for word what Detective Givens had said when he explained it to Draco the third time. And the Minister was looking thoughtful. Draco had assumed it common knowledge that the raid was planned. The Minister asked for the name of the parole officer.

Draco understood. He was being used, again. The Minister knew something was up but he had no way of getting a straight answer. He couldn't ask Mick. Mick was technically the enemy. So he lured Draco here to get the information he needed. And that information was Andrew Givens. To confirm this, the Minister told Draco that Saint Brutus may not reopen after all.

But . . . It didn't feel right. There was something wrong with all of this. Why would the Minister choose him? And how could he have arranged all this without . . . help? Draco grinned, almost laughed.

"Are you a squib?"

The Minister smiled. "You are the clever lad. No. I have no magical ability, whatsoever. It was my cousin. She was my best friend as well. She told me about her letter. And a wizard made me make a special promise never to tell another muggle." He smiled as he remembered. "We kept in touch. I even attended her wedding. He was a good-looking man. You might have heard of him? Fabian Prewitt?" The smile faded. "I heard about their funeral. His sister still writes on occasion. Christmas cards and such."

"I never heard of them. I was raised as a muggle," Draco told him.

"No matter." The Minister shrugged it off. "As for finding you, it took me a while to figure it out. No one ever bothered to correct your name. So I dared to ask my only connection with your world." He paused. "I didn't know you were that popular."

Draco returned the grin. "I'm well known. Not popular. There is a difference."

The Minister laughed at the remark and wished him good luck. Draco thanked him and then asked him for a favour. There was the contest at school and he was given a cup as a clue. Any suggestions would be helpful.

"Let's go with the obvious. Have you tried drinking out of it? Maybe the cup has some kind of effect and gives you a vision or something."

"Cor, never thought of that," Draco muttered. "It's worth a try."

"Remember to let me know if I'm right."

Draco left the car and began to walk back across the parking garage. About halfway there he stopped. He was remembering what Rita Skeeter had told him. About having a good story. He made the mistake of thinking about his time at Saint Brutus.

The car behind him had started up. He could hear it start to pull off. He heard it stop. A door opened. Footsteps. Sirius Black was also getting out of his car. Both converged on Draco. The Minister spoke first.

"I'm hardly more than a backbencher, but I do know how to read people. Draco, would you tell me why you stopped. What did you remember? Was it something about Saint Brutus?"

"Remember?" Draco was laughing. He knew the laugh made him sound slightly mad. "I remember everything."

"Bloody Hell," Sirius Black said as he realized what that meant.

The Minister repeated the word, "Everything", in such a way that he guessed what Draco was saying. "Do you mean . . . the drug . . . what happened?"

Draco gave his mad laugh, then said calmly, "Small error, that idiot assistant put one of the psycotropics on the wrong shelf again."

The Minister obliged by repeating the last word in a shocked voice.

"He won't be screaming like that other one?" Draco asked in a gruffer voice.

"Draco?" Sirius Black had his hand on the boy's shoulder. Draco was looking at the floor. His voice was low.

"I remember cursing Alastor Moody as he tied my hands to the bedpost. I was trying to gouge my eyes out but he wouldn't let me. The bastard wouldn't understand. I couldn't do anything about those demons burning my limbs and biting into my flesh, but if I could rip my eyes out of my head, at least I wouldn't have to look at them anymore. I hated him for that."

* * *

Draco awoke in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was there. She placed a potion by his bed. It would guarantee he had a dreamless sleep. It was almost midnight. Draco didn't bother asking what happened. Some kind of sleep spell. To keep him from talking. To keep him from thinking. He rolled over in the bed and forced himself to relive the effects of that drug. The last thing he needed was to have some sudden memory stop him in his tracks.

The next morning, a tired Draco explained it away as food poisoning. Sirius Black had prepared dinner for them. It helped make the story believable that Sirius Black made it a point to ask Draco if he was feeling better.


	23. The Silver Chalice

A/N: I know I'm not the only one to make obscure references, unintentional or not. And I don't think a certain reference that I make us really that obscure. I make a reference to a muggle relative of Minerva McGonagall. For those who are interested enough to google it, his first name is William.

Chapter 23: The Silver Chalice

It was Remus Lupin, the Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, who first noticed the change. Not to say that people didn't notice a change in Draco. Almost no one knew why Draco left school that one weekend. Everyone knew he went to the infirmary directly upon his return. And everyone noticed that he was not smiling when he came out.

Draco did not laugh. If someone said something that was extremely funny, his lip might curl. And that was all. Hermione said it was as though all the joy had been sucked out of his life.

That was not quite right. It wasn't that something was missing. There was something new that was there. And that is what Remus Lupin noticed.

Draco Malfoy always sat in the back, but at least he was now coming to class. He would listen. When called upon, he would give the answer or admit that he did not know.

The subject was curses and how to deflect them. Remus Lupin was demonstrating the more common shielding spells and explaining their weaknesses. He had finished showing the Protego spell when the unusual happened. Draco Malfoy asked a question. And it was not a simple question to clarify something. It was the type of question that showed he had been thinking about the subject at hand.

"When a wizard subvocalizes a spell, is there any way of determining what type it is in time to cast the appropriate shield?"

Had any other student asked this question, Remus Lupin would have smiled at such an insightful question. But this was Draco Malfoy. And he asked the question as though his life depended on it. As though he would need to know the answer as soon as he walked out of the classroom.

"A curse, as with any spell, causes a reaction that can be seen in the visible spectrum. The colour of the spell. That is the only real clue you will be given."

Nor was that the only question. He asked three more in that class. What factors can influence a shield's strength? Can the nature of a shield be changed without ending the spell and casting a new one? Can Legilimency also be used as a form of attack?

At his earliest convenience, Remus made his observations known to both Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore

Professor Lestrange was the second person to notice. He eyed Draco carefully as the boy came down to Hagrid's hut for his lesson about animals. Today's lesson was about Abraxans, winged horses. Madame Maxime was there with Hagrid to help with the two horses. Draco had heard Hagrid say that the Beaubatons headmistress breeds them.

He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. Uncle Rodolphus led him from the crowd of students and off to one side.

"Tell me, nephew. Does everyone now understand what it means to remember everything? I know you do. I know about myself. From the way Sirius Black avoids looking at you, I will wager he knows as well. Do not be surprised if Dumbledore expresses his sorrow in the near future."

"He won't," Draco said with assuredness. "I'm not that important."

"I would say you are."

"I'm not Potter or Longbottom. I'm the distraction that won't go away."

Lestrange nodded. "Has anyone told you about the prophecy?"

"No. But I know there is one. And because of it, HE has to kill one of them, preferably both. HE wants to kill me only because he doesn't like me."

Another nod. "If you have the chance, talk to Severus. He knows more about it than I do. All I can tell you is that you are right. Severus might be able to tell you why you are right."

This time Draco nodded. He was thinking again. He had 100 days to figure out what Voldemort's plan was. He knew almost everything. The cup would be a portkey. It would take the champion to Voldemort. Voldemort would restore himself and use the portkey to return to Hogwarts, most likely with all his Death Eaters. But. There was always a but.

Voldemort had the means to restore himself at any time. If his plan was to use a portkey, why not restore himself at once and have his spy use the portkey? Why did it have to be one of the champions? Draco said he had a plan. Draco needed to have a plan, not merely say he did.

"Do you like winged horses?" Rodolphus asked, to break the silence.

Draco gave an answer he knew his godfather would appreciate. "Yes. They taste like chicken?"

Rita Skeeter was the third person to notice. She had been visiting Hogwarts quite often. In disguise, of course. At least three times a week she would have an article about some bumbling idiot at the school and what they were doing. She even called Dumbledore an addled dingbat in one article for letting Hagrid handle those flying horses. A close call where Hagrid lost his grip on the rope but Madame Maxime managed to hold on to her rope until he could grab his again. In the article, it was a near disaster that was only avoided thanks to the professionalism of the foreign school teacher.

Now it was Wednesday afternoon, and Draco had the afternoon free. Rita was back in the greenhouse where Draco liked to practice. She commented on the silver chalice, saying it made a great drinking cup. A smile crept on her face when Draco explained his initial idea that it might give him a vision or something. At least now he never became thirsty while playing.

Rita's next comment was that his playing had improved. More than it should have over the past two weeks. It was as though he was now trying to learn instead of seeing how long it took him. Was it his mysterious weekend trip? She smiled again as Draco ignored her. She listened to the new song he was trying to learn. He was singing the words as he played, pausing as he failed to remember a note or word. She was struck by the intensity when he began the second verse. He could see by the way she was watching him.

"_I dreamed a dream in times gone by / When hopes were high and life worth living._"

"I never thought I would say this," Rita told him with all sincerity, "I never want to know what you remembered."

Draco's lips curled. Her words caused him to stop singing. He kept playing the melody, anyway.

"What?" Rita asked suddenly.

"Whot?"

"I would swear I heard someone say 'dark'."

"I didn't say anything."

"There," Rita was looking down. "The cup. The water had ripples. And I've heard the word 'must'."

It was no great feat to come to the conclusion that it had to be the music. Something was causing the cup to speak. It was Rita who suggested he play 'that note thing' that he did for his warm up exercises. Draco started to play the scales. As he played, Rita made a gesture. She had heard a word. A second gesture for a second word. At the third gesture, Draco slowed down. He began playing each note, one after the other with a pause between each note. When he reached C, Rita smiled. She told him she had her story for the front page. The Minister would hate her for it, but she would be singing Draco's praises. She assured him that Crouch wouldn't object because of all the bad things she was writing about Hogwarts.

Rita Skeeter also told Draco to be careful. It was obvious why the Champions should help each other. The voice from the cup was too low to be heard by whoever was playing, or singing. And her instructions were specific. He had to find a way for someone to discover this. And all four champions had to know this by tomorrow night. She wanted the entire clue for the Friday morning edition. Draco told her he couldn't promise anything. Once the secret was out, they'd all want to know right away. She dissolved into her beetle form after telling him he was probably right and to owl her if she needed to come back tonight.

Draco kept playing. Hopefully, someone would come by to disturb him.

* * *

Draco entered the Great Hall and walked at once to Angelina Johnson. He told her he had it. The secret of the cups.

"You finally decided to reveal it?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. He reminded her of the first task, that it was rigged so that he would lose. His guess was that the trick with the cups was designed so he had the best chance of figuring it out. He played the guitar. The cup responded to music. He also pointed out that the voice from the cup was not very loud. It couldn't be heard over the music if you were the one playing.

It was Professor Sprout who found out. She was checking on the greenhouses after her last class. She spotted Draco and gave him a smile. He forced himself to smile back, then asked if she would like to hear a tune. He explained that he owed her a favour for letting him have a quiet place to practice. When she walked up to listen, she commented that words seemed to come from the cup.

He then excused himself. He would tell the other champions. Angelina stood up. She would talk to Fleur. They would have to make a plan on where and when to get together. Angelina pointed to the head table. To Ludo Bagman. "Unless he has his own idea, we could ask about using the back room again."

Draco nodded. It was typical of Angelina. It had not even been five minutes and she had already worked out where to meet, while he, the discoverer of the secret, was still only thinking about telling everyone.

As he went to the Slytherin table to talk to Victor Krum, Angelina went to the Ravenclaw table where the Beaubatons students sat. By the time Draco had explained things to Victor, as well as Professor Karkaroff and everyone else who could listen in, Angelina and Fleur were at the head table talking to Bagman and Dumbledore.

* * *

When Fleur Delacour had asked, Ludo Bagman had assured the champions that the clue to be revealed was not a secret. The only secret was how to find the clue. He had no objection to others being there but recommended that there should not be too many people.

One hour after the meal ended, Draco was walking back to the Great Hall with his guitar. Hermione was carrying the cup for him. Angelina was with him as well as Fred and George. Both had already asked to test the cups afterward, to see if they worked with butterbeer as well as water. Justin was waiting, along with Professor Sprout. The Professor was commenting to Angelina that it was luck that she happened to hear something. She looked up and frowned.

Rita Skeeter had walked into the Great Hall. She apologized loudly for disturbing anyone "but someone told me that something was going to happen tonight, and since I was in Hogsmeade . . ."

Professor Sprout showed her disgust for the woman. Albus Dumbledore was smiling as he walked up to greet the new guest as though she was expected. Most of the students looked annoyed by her presence. The exceptions were Justin and Hermione. Both of them were convinced that Draco had something to do with her showing up, which he did.

"Ah, Rita, how nice of you to come," Dumbledore was saying, "but we are about to have a private meeting. I AM sorry, but unless you have been invited, I will have to ask you to leave."

"Draco, don't," Hermione whispered her warning.

"I owe her," Draco whispered back.

"Albus, darling," Rita was saying, "I do have an invitation."

When Dumbledore looked at him, Draco nodded his head. "I apologize if I am out of line, Professor. I've been reading the Daily Prophet. About the school. I thought it wouldn't hurt to have something good to read."

You can tell a lot about someone by the look on their face. Albus Dumbledore's face spoke volumes. The smile didn't fade. The eyes gave nothing away. He simply turned back and said, "In that case, welcome. I assume you know the reason for this meeting. We will be gathering in the antechamber in a few minutes."

Rita gave Draco an avaricious smile. "Thank you for the timely owl. And I never asked. Did my help actually help?"

Draco's lip curled. "The target was promoted to copy editor."

Rita's gold teeth flashed as she barked a laugh. "A death trap for the ego."

* * *

Draco sat on the stool that was normally used for the sorting ritual. He had his guitar in hand and was making sure it was tuned. Ludo Bagman was standing next to him, proud that his young partner had been the one to uncover the secret. A few feet away was the table with the four silver chalices sitting all in a row. Professor McGonagall was using her wand to spell the cups full with water. Hermione and the remaining three champions stood by the cups to listen for the telltale words. Behind them stood the Heads of the different schools, Professor Duracam representing Salem. There were also the miscellaneous guests. Professor Sprout. Justin. The Weasley twins. Charlie Weasley. The French girl that Victor had taken to the Yule Ball. And Rita Skeeter.

Draco started by hitting the C note so that everyone knew what to listen for. He couldn't hear but all four at the table were nodding to each other. When Angelina told him they were ready, the thought went through his mind that Every Good Boy Deserves Favor. He strummed an A.

"The," Angelina Johnson said. He strummed again and she said, "four"

Draco told her the note. He moved his fingers on the fret and strummed a B. No one said anything. He knew his cup resonated to C so his next was D. Again, nothing. When he hit an E, Viktor Krum said, "Voods". The second time he said, "Go."

Draco strummed the next note, F, and nodded when Fleur said, "To." The second word was "You."

The question arose as to which cup they should listen to first, now that they knew what notes to play. Professor Sprout pointed out that when she first listened to the words from Draco's cup, the first four words were 'dark, must, be, be'. It seemed clear that each cup would give its word in turn. The only question remaining would be in which order.

Fleur Delacour smiled. "Mine iz ze first cup." She explained that Draco was not the only musical student. She played the flute, although she never thought to use the chalice to drink out of. The order of the cups should be obvious. "Eet iz to save face."

Charlie Weasley laughed. "I'll bet anything she's right." When Fred and George gave him a quizzical look, he laughed again. "It's music. You know Every Good Boy Deserves Favour? The lines on the music sheets. And the spaces spell FACE." He then suggested his brothers should date someone who knows music. George said he preferred someone who knew Quidditch.

The last problem was solved by Rita Skeeter, the one person that no one (except Draco) wanted there. She offered her Quick Quotes Quill to write down the words as everyone spoke them. Copies could then be made for whoever wanted one.

Draco began to play the four notes in order, repeating them in a slow but steady rhythm. As he did so, each student spoke out loud the word that came from their particular cup. Draco's personal thought was that the best word for the poem was "cheesy".

_To the dark woods / You four must go / Haste would be good / Do not be slow_

_The task you seek / Your prize to claim / If you would reach / The road to fame_

_A bronze coin droll / A to-ken dear / To pay the toll / First fight your fear_

By the time Ludo Bagman called everyone to order so that he could read the poem as one set piece, Draco had already put his guitar away. He was standing next to Rita Skeeter, and the refreshments table, as the recital began. He dared to ask if the poem was as bad as it sounded. Rita commented that Bagman had no ear for music or poetry. They were lucky it rhymed, mostly. She told him she would rewrite some of the words and present it as prose. At least the readers won't have to suffer.

Rita wished Draco a good night and quickly left so she would not have to listen to the poem a second time. Draco drank the bottle of butterbeer as Bagman finished the third, and thankfully last, stanza.

* * *

The trip back to the common room was not as exciting as the trip down. Professor McGonagall dared to ask what they thought of the quality of the poem. Hermione said it was nice. Fred and George nodded and said they agreed. Angelina looked at Draco to see if he knew what was going on. Draco shrugged his shoulders.

"Mister Malfoy?" McGonagall was looking at him. "Could I ask your honest appraisal?"

Draco felt a sense of fear flow through him. It first told him that the best thing he could do would be to say nothing. And then it said that saying nothing was probably the worst thing he could do. He took option C. He said something that didn't answer the question at all.

"I was told that Ludo Bagman wrote it."

Draco's mind screamed at him as it made the connection. Rita Skeeter said it. The man had no ear for poetry. He couldn't write anything to say his life. Therefore, he must have asked someone else to write it for him. He felt the fear turn to dread. Someone was now insisting he tell what he honestly thought.

"As soon as he began reading it, I knew that couldn't be true." He looked up and asked, innocently, "Did you write it, Professor?"

No one was moving. Not even a sound in the air. Peeves was nowhere near to create a much wanted disturbance. And Draco, the biggest liar in the school, was being asked to tell the truth.

"Um." That word bought him five extra seconds. "Well," Draco's mouth went dry, "the internal rhyme scheme doesn't work except in the last stanza, and that one seems forced. The second stanza seems completely useless. And the last line doesn't have anything to do with the subject at all. It seems like it was tagged on just to finish the poem off." He paused as he tried to figure out something nice to say. He ended up with, "I know I've read worse, I just can't remember when."

Professor McGonagall smiled at him. "Thank you, Mister Malfoy, for confirming my thoughts. It seems I have inherited the family talent, after all."

"Talent?" Hermione had to ask.

"Yes, Miss Granger, having a talent is not always a good thing. Such as a talent for getting into trouble, or a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The members of my family have a talent for writing bad poetry." She added as a final explanation. "I finally had a chance to see if that was still true."

* * *

Walburga Black was the fourth person to notice the change in Draco. It was during his weekly Sunday visit. He had missed the previous week because of a meeting. And now he was proudly explaining how he had unraveled the Secret of the Silver Chalices. She listened politely. Once he had finished, he asked what she thought.

"Draco, when last I saw you, you would have been beaming ear to ear as you told your story. Do you remember the number of times I've told you how much like Regulus you are? I've seen Regulus when he acted the same way that you are acting now. A few weeks later, he was dead."

"I'm not Regulus," Draco replied.

"You must try to sound convincing when you say that." After a short silence, she added in an emotional tone, "What would I do if you were gone?"


	24. The Second Task

A/N: It has been an interesting and busy week. Did you ever have a week like that? I was sitting at my computer proofreading this chapter one last time since I planned on posting it tomorrow morning. About twenty minutes ago, more or less, I remembered that it was already tomorrow. So, here is the chapter and a needless apology for any errors as I probably would have missed them anyway. And I lied. It wasn't an interesting week. It was only busy.

Chapter 24: The Second Task

Draco picked up the letter that the owl dropped. Breakfast was ignored for the present. The letter was from Mick. The election was over and now Draco was to learn the result. It was what he expected.

Mick lost. Big. He received a total of 923 votes. The man in the car received more than 3,000. It was not a large turnout and Mick's letter said that was a good thing. He could have lost by a lot more. But. There was always a but. Mick said that something wonderful had happened. He enclosed a clipping of the victory speech.

In his speech, the Minister praised Mick, claiming that the lopsided vote did not reflect the difference of policy positions, but of experience. He also claimed that the small campaign helped put out a large message: to remind the people of the need for reform. Draco showed Hermione the article and where the man mentioned Saint Brutus and the necessity to make sure the institution never opened its doors again. The man also announced his intentions to have CID reopen its investigation into the operations of the Academy, with the stipulation that anyone found guilty of any criminal activity be prosecuted to the fullest.

Hermione agreed it was wonderful. Especially when Draco pointed out in the letter where Mick wrote that he was to be involved in some way. He was vague about what that way was but that it wouldn't be just for show, and that he would be paid. Draco knew that things had changed for Mick No more attacks on his character.

"He's becoming a politician for real," Hermione joked. "Seriously, he did make an impression. He ran against the man and the man turned around and gave him a job. A job doing something."

Justin, sitting with his back to them, groaned. When they turned around, he was looking at them. "Father wrote to me about that job. Do you know what that Minister did? He stole the party's best tool in the district."

"Mick?" Draco asked.

Justin nodded. "Father says Mick has an earthy charisma. He can speak to people as though he's on the same level with them, that he understands them. Did Mick send you a copy of his last speech? Even the party hacks said it was great."

Draco did remember reading that speech. Mick started out by saying he was a thief. He stole anything he could. He described his skills and how he was teaching them to others when he was barely fourteen. And he told them where he learned them. Then he mentioned Janice, how she stole from him. His heart. And gave him a purpose. He is still a thief, except now he steals the hidden truths and throws them out into the open for all to see. The best part of the speech was that it made people look at Mick as a man they could trust.

The worst part of the speech, according to Justin's father was that the Minister said that if he weren't running, he would vote for Mick himself, that this was the type of man the country needed. That remark let people reelect him without feeling guilty about voting against the reformer.

Justin bemoaned that "the party will never have a chance in that district for the next fifty years".

Hermione agreed with Justin that it was a terrible thing. Draco tried to agree but he couldn't. Mick, in his letter, was happier than he had been since Janice agreed to marry him. His comment made Justin scowl. "It's only politics."

"ONLY POLITICS? WE . . ." Justin stopped. "We could have made a difference."

"They," Hermione reminded him. "We live in a different world."

Justin sighed and turned back to his breakfast. Draco thought it was a good idea and did the same. The second task was getting closer every day. And Ludo Bagman said he was on his own. It wasn't going to matter in the end. Arrangements were almost complete for the third task and then Draco would know everything he needed in order to win.

* * *

It was during the most interesting class ever of History of Magic that Draco had a brilliant idea.

Professor Binns had been convinced to give up his class for the week. Professor Adrem was teaching the class on the colonization of the New World by wizards and witches. She touched on the Roanoke settlement and its disappearance then shifted to the first arrival of magic folk in New England. The main subject was the Salem Witch Trials.

No one tried as a witch in Salem had any magical heritage. It was all the result of hysteria. It was magic, however, that brought the trials to an end. After much arguing about the need for secrecy, it was decided that too many people were being murdered. A group of seven witches confronted the judges and the chief witnesses. They revealed themselves for what they were. They also revealed a special potion they had brewed for that occasion. Veritaserum.

The chief witch took the potion first and dared the muggles to ask any question that they chose. The first question was if they were servants of the devil. The second question was how they could be sure she was telling the truth. The witch said that she had a great punishment for all of them. Each was to be given the potion. For the next hour, everyone would have to tell the truth. No one would be able to lie. And she would be the one to ask the questions.

At the end of that hour, one of the judges openly wept. Charms were used to prevent anyone present from speaking about what happened, and to prevent anyone from forgetting. The result was that the remaining trials to be held resulted in acquittal. The hysteria disappeared. And the judge who wept, Samuel Sewall, issued a public confession.

One other thing that happened was that the witches warned that they would remain in the area to keep an eye on things. They became the founders of the Salem Witches Institute.

After the class was over, Draco approached the American teacher and asked his question. Hermione insisted on joining him.

"Could you cast a silencing spell?"

The Professor waved her wand.

"Do the Americans have any experience in trying to, um, resurrect the dead?"

Professor Adrem smiled. "If I taught Defense instead of history, I would be able to answer that question." She managed to drawl one word. "Why?"

Draco explained his earlier thoughts about Voldemort and what he knew about the man's plans. He was trying to figure out why an outsider was needed for the restoration process and he had no one he could ask. He looked at Hermione as he explained that it would be too suspicious if he or his friends started looking.

Professor Adrem agreed. And because she was here, she would cause suspicion as well. She would mention her regrets when she sent her next report to Doctor McCudgeon. She told Draco he was paranoid, that he had every right to be and that they would never have another private conversation again. Before she removed the spell, she added that she needed a good excuse for casting the spell in the first place.

She waved her wand. And laughed. "It won't make any difference. Let Fred and George try using butterbeer in the cup. And let me know if they have any luck."

* * *

Hermione smiled as Draco made it a point to eat a hearty breakfast. The day of the second task had finally arrived.

"Do you remember the spells we studied?"

"All of them, Hermione. And I know which ones I'm good at and which ones to use if I'm desperate."

"And remember," Hermione whispered, "you are a dragon."

Draco's lip curled in appreciation. Hermione would remind him of his greatest strength. If all else failed, he could burn everything in his path.

"I'll remember."

As classes were cancelled for the day, he and Hermione and Justin visited a few people. First, and not by popular choice, was Professor Snape. Uncle Severus surprised them by first asking Hermione how well prepared Draco was. He was smiling when she said better than they had hoped. Justin whispered to Draco that Snape actually liked someone from Gryffindor.

"Mister Finch-Fletchley, if you showed more interest in helping Draco than joining in his escapades then you might find me liking someone in Hufflepuff. At least Miss Granger appreciates the need for Draco to learn as much as possible."

Next was a brief visit to Professor Lestrange. He smiled as always. He was polite as always when Draco was with his friends. And he assured Draco that he did not need to rely on luck when he had friends. As they left, Justin asked Draco if they were the friends the professor was referring to.

As they left the castle to visit Hagrid, Rita Skeeter was waiting outside. She smiled at Draco, Justin and Hermione and told Murray the photographer to take their picture. It could end up on the front page if a certain someone won. She assured the three young teenagers that she wasn't waiting for them. She also asked Draco if he had seen Sirius Black.

Hagrid was happy for the visit but insisted it had to be short. He had things to do before the task began. He did have the most experience in the dark forest. He had to make sure the tasks were set up properly. He wasn't smiling when he wished Draco good luck.

After lunch, Professor Duracam came for Draco. She was his escort to the start of the Second Task. Her first question was if she should ask if Draco was prepared. Should she ask if he was nervous? Should she ask what the odds where that he would win this round? Did he know anyone who could give her the odds and let her make a last minute bet? Draco advised her to talk to the Weasley twins and not to bet on him. Her questions did have their effect. He wasn't the least nervous when he arrived at the meeting place with the other champions. He was almost eager to begin.

Fleur kissed him on both cheeks, wishing him luck. Angelina, with an impish grin, did the same. Viktor laughed and asked Draco if he minded that they only shook hands. Draco wished them luck as well. The pleasantries done, they turned to face Ludo Bagman who was facing the makeshift stands built behind Hagrid's hut and at everyone who had gathered to watch.

Bagman began with the announcements of the existing scores. Angelina Johnson was in the lead with 50 points. Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were tied for second with 45 points. He turned to Draco and smiled. When he turned back he announced that Draco Malfoy originally had no points for the first task. Because of extenuating circumstances, the judges had revised their original scores. He stood in fourth place with 30 points. And because he was the one to discover the secret of the cups, the judges have awarded him an additional 10 points. His total stood now at 40.

Ludo Bagman went on to explain the task. Arrangements had been made to use the forest with appropriate difficulties in place. Each contestant would have their own path and goal. Points would be given depending on how quickly each champion completed his or her task. Being the first to finish would not mean automatically winning the round. Each champion would also be judged on their skill in dealing with . . . any problems. He said the last line just right. The audience laughed in appreciation.

"Let the task begin."

Professor Dumbledore led Angelina Johnson to one of the paths. He gave her his best wishes and let her know to follow the path to the end. As Angelina disappeared into the forest, the remaining champions waited. After one minute, Ludo Bagman announced it was time. Professor Karkaroff and Madam Maxime led their champions to their own paths.

Now it was only Draco and Professor Duracam. They waited for two more minutes. When Bagman told them it was time, Professor Duracam walked Draco to the fourth path. She gave him one last piece of advice. "If you find yourself in trouble and you can't get out of it, swear like hell. It WILL make you feel better."

Draco loosened his old brown coat to pull out his wand. It was a warm day. But it was also February. Warm meant that it was above freezing.

"If they wanted me to feel better, they would have held this task indoors."

* * *

Draco carefully walked along the path, remembering the last time he had entered these woods. The trees looked as gnarly and threatening as they had before. And dark. Even though it was a sunny day, the trees already made it look as though it was almost dusk.

He made the assumption that there would be no traps until after he was out of sight, which didn't take long. Once he turned the first bend in the trail, he stopped. There was a long straight trail ahead of him. Everything looked normal, but that meant nothing. He took out his wand and cast a spell.

"Ostendo."

Nothing happened. He cast the spell again, aiming it at a tree that came close to the path. Oddly, the tree gave a faint glow. A glow that Draco recognized from practice. When casting the reveal spell, the various hidden hexes and jinxes and what not all had tell-tail glows, similar to the colour of the light that would come from one's wand when casting the active spell. The faint glow showed that the set spell had been broken.

Draco smiled to himself. He would be careful, but it was obvious to him what had happened. Since they knew what path he would take, certain people removed the placed spells to make his trek easier. He would still be careful in case they didn't get everything.

He was walking along at a fairly brisk pace. He was also casting the Ostendo spell at anything that looked like trouble. He found two spells that were intact. He didn't know what one spell was but the other looked like a form of Impedimentia. Being wrapped up in ropes would definitely make the task harder. He also found three more faint glows. Three more spells that had been removed from his path.

"Just wish I knew how far I had to go," Draco said to himself as he reached the second turning. He stopped and slowed. The path wasn't straight at all but wove around several large trees. He cast Ostendo at everything he could. And he saw it. A bright golden glow that stood a good meter off the ground, only a hand span away from the tip of his wand.

To be safe, Draco crawled under the spell trap on his hands and knees. He even cast the spell above him before standing up. Walking slowly, he cast a few more spells to make sure the path was clear. He rounded the last tree with a sigh of relief and paused to stare down the long wooded corridor in front of him.

Something growled on his right. Draco turned his head. He couldn't see what it was but he could see glowing yellow eyes in the shadows. Two pair of them. Moving slowly toward him. Draco wasn't worried. He pointed his wand and growled back. A burst of flame came out of his wand, hurting nothing but making a spectacular show of light.

The eyes were still there, but they were no longer moving. He let out a shout, almost a bark. The flames came out again, not enough to hurt but stronger than before. And the heat of the flames was noticeable. When the last wisp disappeared, Draco saw that the eyes were gone as well. The only noise to be heard were padded feet fading into the distance.

Then there was another noise. Almost as though someone was crying. Draco nodded to himself. The first stretch was for the traps. The second stretch would be the attacks. The first attack he took care of, but what of the others? Would he still have to face them or have they been taken care of as well. When he heard the crying noise again, Draco felt a pang in his heart. Some of the spells had been broken for him. Perhaps some of the animals were driven away as well. His fear was that he wouldn't be facing an animal trying to attack him but the opposite. An animal that had been wounded trying to flee those who were helping him.

Slowly, he walked forward, ever closer to that muted crying noise, ever fearful of what he might find. Then he heard the cry again. From a bush next to the path, just ahead of him.

It was a funny looking bush. It had leaves that seemed to be wrapped up around itself. And a leafless branch that stood out of it.

"Ostendo."

The bush glowed with a reddish light. Except around the branch. The branch? Draco took a closer look, trying to be as careful as possible.

"Bloody Hell!"

As Draco said that, the muffled crying became almost frantic. He stepped back and pointed his wand at the odd looking bush.

"Finite Incantatum." Nothing happened. "Depulso."

The bush unraveled itself rapidly and flung itself away from its victim. It looked like a small tree now that it was back in its proper form. But Draco didn't care. He was looking at the branch that was not a branch. And the little American girl in front of him that was holding a wand. The wand that belonged to her brother, Jack. She was also dressed in pink. Pink corduroy pants and pink fur lined boots, a fluffy pink jacket with a fur lined hood that matched the boots. She may have been scared but she wasn't cold.

Draco knelt on one knee to look her in the face.

"Abby?"

On that verbal cue, she jumped forward and threw her arms around his neck, crying all out. In between sobs she whimpered about how scared she was.

He rubbed her back, hoping that it would make her feel better, hoping that it would get her to stop crying. And it did. Eventually. Finally he was able to ask what she was doing in the forest.

"I just wanted to look," she said after Draco pulled out a handkerchief and let her blow her nose. (He also let her keep the handkerchief.)

"And you stole Jack's wand in case you ran into any trouble?"

Abby's mood changed to indignant. "I was holding it for him so HE wouldn't get into trouble. That southern lady wanted to talk to him and . . ."

"Abby," Draco said forcefully. "I'll take your word for it. But I need to know why you're here in the forest. Did they ask you to come in here?"

Indignant changed to funny. "No. They told me to stay away. But they weren't looking. Nobody told me it was booby trapped."

"Those traps were for me," Draco told her. "I'm supposed to get past them." He paused as he remembered the gold spell hanging in the air. "How did you get this far?" His lip curled as he realized the answer. Abby was short enough to walk under that last spell. And he guessed the rest. "You heard those animals and pulled your wand out as you backed away?" Abby nodded. "And right into that tree?" She nodded again, smiling and blushing at the same time.

"Did you use your wand on any of those traps?"

The scared little girl was gone completely. She had been replaced by a little braggart. "The first one spun me around. I wasn't hurt or anything but I knew to be careful." Her voice became excited. "It's like a real live video game. So I just shot some spells like Jack showed me. I hit a couple of things." She whispered conspiratorially, "It was great when they sparkled."

Draco sighed to himself. He now had the most difficult part of the task ahead of him. Convincing a girl of seven to walk back out of the forest so that he could get on with his task. Abby wanted to follow now that Draco was here to protect her. Draco explained that there were even greater dangers ahead. Abby promised to stay behind him. Draco told her she should go back. Abby said no, not without him. What if she ran into something that she missed earlier?

Draco knew she didn't mean it. He knew she was just making an excuse. He also knew that there were at least three active traps on the way back, and anything he had missed. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a Galleon coin.

Abby took the coin and asked why. Draco explained it was a portkey. He then explained what a portkey was. She was to use it became it was dangerous in the forest. It would take her to a safe place, a wizard hospital. Once there, the doctors would let her parents know she was safe.

"But." As dangerous as things were, Abby didn't want to go. Draco was here. He could protect her. Any other excuse she could think of. And finally, the truth. She was afraid. Draco made her feel safe.

Draco made sure she put the coin safely in her coat pocket. He could have tricked her into using it but, for some reason, the thought never entered his mind. He told her how to activate it. He told her not to be afraid to use it if he ordered her to. And Draco both warned and promised her that if he gave that order it was because he could not protect her. He also warned her not to hold on to him or he would go with her. He had to stay here. He was in the competition.

"Even if you're hurt?"

"Even if I'm hurt. It's part of this task. How I handle it. Now, stay behind me." He gave his deliberate smile. "We're going to find out how good a wizard I really am."

Draco started walking forward to find Abby directly behind him. He started to say something but caught movement to one side. Rapid movement but far away.

"PROTEGO."

What looked like a tree branch came whipping out at him but hit the shield and bounced away. He heard it say in a strange voice, "_that hurrrt_".

"_Are you injured?"_ Draco asked in parseltongue.

A large green snake raised its head and hissed, "_I had to attack you. Tricked by bad men. Bad magic."_

"_Are you safe, now? I can cancel the spell if I have to._"

"_Spell already broken. I am only weak. I will recover._"

"_I can help,_" Draco said. He pointed his wand. "Rennervate."

The snake hissed its thanks loudly as it was filled with newfound strength. It then quickly disappeared into the forest. One angry green-eyed boy was going to have words with whoever set up this tournament. How dare they do such a thing to a snake.

Abby was staring wide-eyed at Draco. "You were talking to it? You can do that?"

"Yeah," Draco said, deliberately giving her a smile. "And maybe you should walk next to me."

Abby was happy to be walking with Draco. She was also nervous. Something Draco could understand. She mentioned it was like being in a video game. And she understood now that traps and things could hurt.

As Draco continued to cast the Ostendo charm, discovering another trap, Abby showed how she did it. "REDUCTO". Draco admitted it was pretty the way the spell sparkled as it dissolved. He was also curious how a girl of seven had managed a spell that wasn't taught until the third year.

And Abby was useful. She spotted one of the flying trees, her term for the trap that grabbed her, and she pointed out another potential animal attack. After he cast a flame in that direction, she asked him to teach her to shoot fireballs. She also let him know about another problem, but she didn't tell him.

Abby screamed.

Draco looked up to see two arrows flying in his direction. Ha grabbed her as he dropped to the ground. The arrows passed overhead and to one side. Looking up, he saw two centaurs, both brown, pulling back on their bows. Almost in reflex, he held up his wand. "FLAMMUS ERRECTOR." A wall of flame threw itself in front of them. The arrows burnt completely before they could pass through the shield. He stood up, casting a protective shield between him and the centaurs. He checked to make sure Abby wasn't hurt.

"Use the port . . ." Draco started to shout when he was suddenly hit from the side. He went sideways into a tree, grunting in pain. It was an effort to hold onto his wand. Not that it helped.

It was a centaur, a palomino if he remembered his horses correctly, that was standing over him. The spear in his hand was pointed at Draco's throat. He called out, "he is ours," as his companions came into view.

"Foolish wizard. The elders may have given Dumbledore permission to use the forest but that doesn't mean all of us agreed with him. Now we will teach you the price of going where you do not belong."

"Draco?" Abby asked in a frightened voice.

The centaur laughed. "We will be fair. We will let the youngling run for her freedom. We will not chase her until we are done with you." He raised the spear in preparation to strike when Abby suddenly stood up. She was holding the Galleon in one hand. Before the centaur could react, she put her hand on his flank and shouted.

"Saint Mungo's"

A small whirlwind whisked them away in an instant.

Draco reacted without hesitation. "IMPEDIMENTIA" Ropes shot out of his wand and bound one of the centaurs. He pointed his wand at the other centaur who was notching an arrow in his bow.

"Don't," he threatened. "You saw what I did to the last two arrows. And this time, I promise, I'll make more than a wall of fire. You'll be a pile of ashes before you can raise that bow."

The centaur smiled. His voice was mocking. "Then why do you hesitate? Bind me as well and be on your way."

Draco smiled. "It's all about being tricked. Either that friend of yours was telling the truth, or you are part of the task. I need to know which."

The centaur laughed. He took the arrow from his bow and made to return it to the quiver on his back. Instead, he lashed out, not at Draco but at his fellow centaur. The binding ropes were cut. In a very short time, the second centaur was free of his bonds. The first centaur went to notch the arrow to his bow, again. "And now you have twice the problem."

"Down from three. I'm still ahead." It was a firm voice. His wand was still pointed at them. His tone let them know he would use it if threatened. They stood there for ten minutes.

"Here's the deal," Draco said, breaking the silence. "You don't try to stop me. I grab what I came for and I leave nice and quick. Or we fight a duel and waste more time."

"Why should we deal with a human?"

Draco lowered his wand. "Because you're part of the task. If you weren't, wizards would be all though these woods by now. Your friend did go someplace. I'm sure someone would have noticed a centaur in a hospital." Draco had a fleeting thought that he did the same thing with a spider. Making a deal.

The centaur responded by raising his bow. He let loose the arrow. Draco stood there. He flinched only slightly as the feathers of the arrow grazed his ear in passing.

"You're part of the game," Draco said, forcing a laugh. "You can't hurt me or kill me. You can only try to stop me."

Draco ran toward the centaurs. The two waited obligingly for him to come to them, as they did block the path he needed to take. As he neared, he raised his wand and pointed it between them. Then he copied Abby. "REDUCTO". Being older and better trained, his version of the spell had more power. It forcefully pushed the two centaurs apart, clearing the path ahead.

Draco was now running. Alternately casting his flames and the reducto curse. At least three more traps were dissolved. And one attack was thwarted by the simple fact that Draco was running. It was a scorpion-like creature that stood behind a tree. Its tail came down to sting him but he had already passed it. Not being foolish, he stopped and turned around, quickly making sure that there would be no further attacks. Satisfied it was trapped in that one spot, (and reluctant to free it,) he continued onward to the next turn in the path.

It was anticlimactic. There was the coin, sitting on a rock in a little grassy clearing. There were no magical traps on it or around it. Draco even cast the revealing charm on the air in front of him. There were no animals on guard. It was a simple matter of walking five meters and picking it up.

Draco made it halfway there. There was a sudden tug and his feet were forced from under him. Not that he ever hit the ground. As his legs went up, so did the rest of his body. Except the wand. That went down as Draco let go of it in his surprise. When all motioned stopped he found himself dangling by one leg from a long rope attached to a tree.

Draco laughed. He had seen the same trick in too many American westerns and British comedies. The animal trap used to capture a man. It was the perfect trap for a wizard. It did not use any magic.

Escape was simple but it wasn't easy. Draco began swinging for momentum. It took time until he could grab a branch on the tree the rope was tied to. Then the physical part of climbing onto the branch and making sure the rope was slack enough so that he could remove it. This was followed by the need to get down from the tree with two very amused centaurs now standing guard. His only advantage was that neither of them had noticed his wand lying in the grass. His biggest disadvantage was that one of the centaurs was standing over it.

"Come down, little one," The centaur with the bow called out. "We will walk you safely out of the forest. You can come back for your coin at a later time."

"If it were only me," Draco said with mock politeness, "I would say yes. Except I am not alone." He made to spring. Just before he leaped out of the tree, he shouted, "NOW, JACK". He jumped directly at the centaur standing over his wand. The centaur stepped back, both to let him fall and to look for the other attacker. Draco hit the ground hard, happy he wasn't too high in the tree. He reached out, grabbed the wand.

"ACCIO COIN."

The bronze coin, slightly smaller than a Galleon, flew into his free hand. The centaur reached down and grabbed the coin out of his hand. Draco shouted, "STUPIFY." He turned quickly as the centaur fell over, fortunately away from him. He turned to look at an arrow. An arrow almost touching his nose. It was notched and pulled back in the bow, ready to be let loose by an angry centaur.

"Put your wand down."

Draco paused. He was so close. The centaur repeated himself.

"Put your wand down."

"NO."

Draco pointed his wand at the centaur. "You won't kill me."

The centaur smiled. "If you attack me, I COULD let loose the arrow. Will you risk that?"

"No," Draco admitted. He lowered his wand so that it was pointed at the arrow.

"REPELLO".

The arrow and bow were forced from the centaur's hand. As the arrow was released, it was already being pushed away. It hit the ground at an angle some two meters away. The bow flew into the trees. But Draco wasn't watching. He was casting his next spell. "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS."

The centaur froze into place. And Draco sighed in relief.

* * *

As Draco neared the last turn in the path on his way out of the dark forest, he sighed. From what he could see, he had taken two hours to complete the task, maybe more. He could see most of the stands in front of him and they were empty. Someone, a student spotted him and gave a shout. He limped out of the forest to find out that most everyone had stayed. They just hadn't stayed seated.

"Three hours, eighteen minutes," Ludo Bagman called out. "That is the official time."

Madam Pomfrey was already at Draco's side, examining his ankle, making him sit down on the ground while she made sure it was nothing too serious. He told her it happened when he jumped out of the tree. She called him childish for taking time to climb trees and said that he deserved it. Her smile told him she was happy it wasn't worse. As she cast a healing spell on the ankle, Professor Duracam walked up.

"You never do anything by half, do you? Do you know, another five minutes and you would have taken longer than all the other champions combined?"

Arthur Weasley was there as well. "None of the other champions had a companion, either."

By this point, there was a crowd around Draco.

While waiting for the fourth champion, the others related their experiences in the forest. Fleur Delacour suggested it as a means to pass the time. She never expected to finish her explanation. Nor did anyone expect all three to have enough time to relate their adventures. Angelina, going third, had barely started when Arthur Weasley rode up in a carriage with an excited young girl.

After Angelina finished, everyone wanted to know what happened with Abby. Everyone around her had heard her mention Draco. By the time Draco had stepped out of the forest, everyone knew about meeting the centaurs. As he helped the boy up, Arthur concluded his explanation by asking about the other two.

When Draco later checked his coat pocket, there was a gold Galleon in it.

* * *

Ludo Bagman made his official announcement. Because of the lateness of the hour and the need to talk with the observers, the results would be announced at the end of the evening meal.

That left Draco in the hands of a pair of American parents expressing their gratitude. He was saved by Professor Duracam who asked them if they might consider sending their children to the Roanoke school. They are a bit young for boarders but . . .

The conversation trailed off as they walked away. Draco did notice that Professor Duracam was holding Jack's wand.

Hermione was there, eventually, telling him as she hugged him that it took her forever to get through the crowd. Viktor was telling her that everyone wanted to hear his story. Draco could only be honest. He had sprained his ankle. Badly. Half the time he spent in the forest was in trying to walk out.

Angelina teased him about rescuing the little girl. Fleur told her not to tease. It only showed how noble Draco was. To his surprise, no one laughed.

* * *

"I lost," Draco said to the small crowd of two dozen or so in the common room. "The centaurs had stopped me. Then this little girl, seven going on eight, has this brill idea and saves my arse. Anyone who thinks I won this round, go see Minnie (Professor Adrem). She has a bridge she wants to sell." He took a sip of the hot cup of tea and said how happy he was to be warm.

When he finished the tea, he checked his ankle to find it had completely healed. With that, he joined his house mates for the trip to the Great Hall. It was going to be a feast.

Draco was the center of attention, mostly because everyone had heard all the other adventures. Even Potter admitted he was curious. All the others were the same, yet different in their own ways. He tried to tell his story. It came out in pieces.

Abby had become a child prodigy instead of the very lucky girl she was. The other centaurs were caught by surprise. He tripped and sprained his ankle, thus tripling his time. The task was too easy.

As the desserts faded away, it was time for the scores to be announced. Ludo Bagman began with Angelina Johnson. He complimented her on her creative use of the leg-locker curse and the jelly legs hex. She was awarded 40 points in the round, her total now 90.

Fleur Delacour was next. She was complimented on her escape from the binding bush by the simple use of a floating spell. "Such a simple solution. She floated it out of her way." She was also commended for her use of a sleeping charm on the centaurs. She also received 40 points and remained five points behind Angelina.

Viktor Krum received 45 points and was tied with Angelina. This was because he has the fastest time as well as how he made it past the centaurs. He used the mobiliarbus spell and moved a tree between them. He also used the tree to force them off the path. Bagman added that Viktor also placed the tree back in its original spot when he was done.

And then there was Draco. "Oh, what to do with you. Brilliant and brainless all in one go." The litany began. Rescuing the girl. Defeating the snake. And helping it recover. Protecting the girl from the arrows. Defeating the centaurs. All these were good. Taking the girl with him. Letting the girl rescue him. Getting caught in the tree. Having to defeat the centaurs a second time. (Impressive but needless.) And the long walk out of the woods. These were all on the bad side.

Draco Malfoy received only 30 points for the Second Task. He now had a total of 70 points. He was firmly in last place. Despite the condolences that everyone gave him, Draco was not sad. He already knew one thing that none of them knew. Each of the Champions would have a different challenge for the final task. Which challenge they had would be determined by each in turn choosing one of the four parchments. What Draco knew was that the champion in last place would be the first to choose.


	25. As I Was Saying

A/N: I know I lost a week. And to be honest, I almost didn't make this week. It's called life. I could explain but it always sounds like I'm making excuses. On the other hand, I had some free time yesterday. I was out of reach of my computer but there was a bookshelf. I amused myself by reading early Calvin and Hobbes. Picture this: Calvin is talking to his father and asked what would happen if he plugged his mouth and his nose just before he sneezed. Would it come out of his ears or would his head explode? Calvin then admits that, either way, he's too scared to try.

Chapter 25: As I Was Saying

Remus Lupin was the last person Draco expected help from. Nor was it the kind of help he expected. It began after the end of the second task. After everyone told him, he was stupid for taking the girl with him. Sirius Black said it best. "You Wally, if you brought her back, they would have given you points AND excused your time limit."

Albus Dumbledore, with Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime and Professor Duracam decided to ask a more pertinent question. How did a fourth year student obtain a portkey? Draco claimed that he had gotten it from Sirius Black. Black immediately denied it. Draco smirked as he pointed out that he never said the portkey was given to him. Professor Karkaroff asked if it was possible to take points away from his score.

It was the Saturday after the task. Draco was walking with Hermione and Dean to the Great Hall. They slowed as they reached the last staircase. Potter and Longbottom were standing at the bottom talking to Professor Lupin. Longbottom was nodding his head. When Lupin saw who was standing at the top of the stairs, the two boys with him turned to look.

Potter looked directly at Draco. Intense but without anger. Not a normal look. He said something to Lupin, causing the man to smile. Draco noticed that Longbottom looked surprised. The two walked off to the Great Hall in deep conversation.

"Mister Malfoy, could I have a word with you." Now it was Draco and Hermione standing at the bottom of the stairs with Dean watching out of curiosity. "Sirius Black told me about . . ."

". . . My lack of moral fiber. He told me all about it, too."

"Clever little girl. I heard tell that she thought on her own to take the Centaur with her."

Hermione and Dean smiled. Both had been there when Abby complained about how many points they gave Draco. She related to Professor Lupin how Draco told the girl they had to give him such a low score because she did most of the work.

"I even learned something," Draco admitted. "She made it all the way down the first gauntlet by simply shooting spells at everything in sight. Didn't even bother looking for the traps." He forced a smile. "The lesson is: shoot first and ask questions later."

"Video games," Dean said with authority. "Wager you she's an expert."

Hermione started to explain what a video game was, when Remus Lupin suggested it wait for another time, perhaps over tea. If they took too long in the hallway, they would miss breakfast completely.

"If you've the time free, Mister Malfoy, I give extra Defense lessons on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings. Both my current students agreed that I should invite you to join." He added, needlessly, that it could help with the third task.

Dean was surprised to hear that Lupin gave private lessons. Hermione pointed out that Professor Snape did the same for her. And Draco. Draco pointed out that she was becoming the potions professor's favorite. He also agreed to have a go.

"You didn't ask to join," Draco said as he and Hermione entered the Great Hall. Dean suggested she would probably show up anyway. Hermione admitted she thought about it, but Professor Lupin gave Harry and Neville lessons for personal reasons. He was more interested in Draco's safety.

* * *

Professor Minerva Adrem was walking by as Justin said, loud enough to be heard from his table that Draco would figure a way to win. Potter, a few seats away, said just as loudly it was because Malfoy was box clever.

As Hermione muttered something about common courtesy, Professor Adrem paused. Draco had asked his friend if she wanted Potter to break his duck. Potter was beginning to stand up.

"Now, hold on to your britches, boy. What's got your dander up?" Professor Adrem wasn't smiling. "Seems to me both you boys are chugged full of sass, even if I don't cotton what either of you said."

Potter expressed the views of most of the students at the table. "What?"

Draco smiled. "Potter, she wants to know why you're mad. After all, we both had a fair crack at the whip."

"You understood her?" Dean Thomas asked.

"It was easy peasy," Draco replied.

"A piece of cake," Professor Adrem added.

"What's cotton mean?" Ron Weasley asked.

"Don't reckon I follow."

"Well," Ron clarified, "What did you mean by the word cotton when you said it?"

"I just told you, honey. By cotton I meant that I don't reckon I follow what you're saying."

"That clears things up," Hermione said with a smirk.

Potter decided to be gracious, "And I merely told Malfoy, he was smart enough to figure out how to win the tournament, regardless of what it took."

Draco couldn't help himself, "And Hermione thought I was getting it in the neck."

"Did not," Hermione retorted, then saw the curl of Draco's lips. "I knew Draco would do something in a tick. I was trying to stop him . . ." Draco was almost smiling ". . . but that's like flogging a dead horse."

One other person figured out what Draco was doing. It turned out to be Potter who added, "I was trying to compliment him but grabbed the nettle."

Professor Adrem was grinning. Draco mentally added that three people knew what he was doing. She proved it by saying, "such sweet talking things, I could butter you up and call Y'all biscuits."

"What?" Ron asked.

"We're with Draco," Dean told him. "It's whot."

"I don't care. I just want to know what she meant by calling us biscuits?"

* * *

Potter and Longbottom were dueling when Draco walked in. Professor Lupin explained that they were practicing shielding spells. He asked Draco what he had the most problems with in the second task.

"They had a rabbit snare right at the end. No magic at all."

"And the magic spells?"

Draco frowned. "No, but I think that was because of Abby." He tried to remember. Most of the spells had already been broken. The few that were left were off to one side. The second part of the trail was mostly animal attacks. And the centaurs. "I don't think they planned on anyone charging through."

Remus Lupin nodded thoughtfully. He admitted that he helped lay a few of the traps. They were designed to activate when the champion came near them. Then he laughed. The traps also had a failsafe. If someone who was not a champion came upon them, the spell would dissipate. That was why Draco's task was so easy. They didn't plan on a young girl walking the path out of curiosity.

"And you took her with you," Lupin pointed out. "She was your good luck charm in more ways than one."

And that was Draco's lesson. Lupin would duplicate something from the task and Draco would set it off. When he failed, Lupin would explain what happened, what he should have done and why what he did didn't work.

Most of them were fairly easy. A shield or a repulsion spell would solve the problem. When the desk exploded, sending pointed pieces of wood only in his direction, Draco cast the flame shield. He hit the cushioned wall some ten meters behind him. The wood did not burn when it hit the shield but passed through without damage. And the pointed pieces did not pierce him. They pushed him backward with great force.

Lupin told him that the wood did not burn because it was not wood. It pushed him backward because the wood pieces were actually directional force fields. Had he used Protego, he would have had the same results. The clues to watch were that the spell was directional and that the 'explosion' occurred before the splinters began to fly at him. A repulsion spell would have helped. The best would have been a dispelling charm to cause the pieces to go around him. On a final note, he could also have ducked.

That was the worst one Draco faced. As they progressed, Lupin had all three boys try their hands. Draco was glad when Potter failed at stopping one of the traps but it wasn't out of meanness. He was just happy that he wasn't the only one.

When Neville tried his hand, he was successful every time. That told Draco that this wasn't his first time. Lupin even commented that it was clear someone was practicing. Then he talked about how Potter failed. It was because he was trying a new tactic and it hadn't worked properly. Lupin explained carefully what he had done wrong. By the time he finished the explanation, Draco knew enough that he would be able to try, and probably succeed.

Lastly, the professor criticized Draco. The exploding desk was the best example. The boy was reacting to what he saw attacking him and not paying attention to how it came about. He was waiting for the attack without considering it might be a feint. As in the attacking plant. Draco tried to prevent the plant from reaching him. He should have remembered that plants have roots. In each case he defended himself from what he saw, or thought he saw. He never considered what he might not be seeing.

As they left, Neville told Draco he did well for a first lesson. When Draco only nodded, Potter told him that Neville was right. Potter had that look in his eye, again. Like there was something wrong and he needed to figure it out.

As the classes continued, Lupin seemed to spend more time with Draco than the other two. He admitted he wanted him to catch up to speed. He was taught some new spells, variations on spells he knew and the beginnings of subvocalizing his spells. There weren't many advanced lessons as in learning what the later years did but they were shown how to do more with the spells they had. Draco commented that Professor Snape was doing the same thing for him with potions.

After his third special class, Draco realized two things. Potter had changed. Not in how he acted, but in his attitude. He still seemed arrogant, but he had lost the meanness. He even gave Draco a helping hand on occasion.

The second thing Draco noticed was that he was enjoying these extra classes.

* * *

It was true that few people liked Draco. Most were polite enough to him. And most of them had their suspicions. The one thing was that no one harassed him. No one said things to his face. In one sense, he had been accepted.

That he was attacked was a surprise. Unless one understood that it were the Durmstrang students. While Viktor Krum was always friendly, not everyone followed his lead. And Professor Karkaroff was one of them. He resented Draco as the extra chance for Hogwarts to steal the glory of winning the tournament.

Draco was on his perch overlooking the lake. The bushes behind him were tall enough that he was hidden from the school. It was one of the first warm days of the year. He had his guitar with him as usual. This time, however, he was alone. From one side of the bushes, five students in red robes appeared. They were all smiling. There was a time when Draco was walking to the home with Justin and they ran into Nigel. Nigel had the same smile. Until he recognized Draco.

He was thinking as fast as he could. He had few options. His guitar was in his lap, the strap over his neck. He would have to lift it out of the way if he needed to do anything. That would take time. His wand was in his pocket. He would have to reach behind the guitar in an awkward manner to get it. That could end up taking longer. He could try to run but first he would have to get up and the guitar could make that difficult, perhaps difficult enough. He could also jump but he wasn't on a cliff. It was more of a steep rocky incline. Doable but only if he had to.

In less than half a second, Draco knew they had him well trapped. All of his extra lessons would not help. His best hope would be to call Kreacher, but he ran the risk of giving the Durmstrang students an extra target. And two of them were already pulling out their wands as a third tried to distract him by asking if he had been playing for very long.

He decided to try taking the guitar off. It might even work as a shield. It was a slim chance but if he did nothing then he had no chance at all. They were watching him. Except for one who was the lookout. As they saw Draco move, they took that as the signal. Even the lookout was bringing out his wand.

What Draco did not expect was for the bushes to suddenly shake. He knew he wasn't the only one to look up the two meters to the top. And he would bet he wasn't the only one surprised to see a figure coming over the top.

It was Professor Duracam, the American Athletics Director. How she managed to get there unnoticed, he could only guess. It was also a guess as to why she decided to jump over the hedge. She was upside down in the air when the wand in her right hand cast a shielding spell. It blocked two hexes that had already been cast. It was the wand in her left hand that caught Draco's attention. It was shooting out spells like it was an automatic revolver.

Less than half a second later, the professor landed on her feet in front of Draco, blocking his view of the others. As she turned around, Draco did see one of them walking off. In a manner of speaking. Half his steps were not in the direction he was going.

A dog barked from directly behind. Draco jumped. A second later, Sirius Black was making a half-hearted apology.

"Impressed?" Professor Duracam asked.

"By that somersault, definitely," Sirius Black answered.

"Is that because you gave me a helping hand?"

"Well, Dolores, the second wand does give you an advantage." He was grinning. "That's something else I'm going to have to learn." Sirius gave a polite bow. "If you will excuse me, I have work to do."

Draco was standing now as Sirius walked over to four red-robed students who weren't. One was, but she wasn't moving. Two on the ground looked like they were stunned. Black had already cancelled the spell on the last one. Draco found he was correct about the two being stunned because Black cast the Rennervate spell on them. He cancelled the spell on the frozen girl and suggested they find their erratic friend before seeing the headmaster.

"Were you impressed?"

Draco looked up at the professor. "Surprised. It was over before it ever started." He paused. "Why jump over the hedge? All you had to do was walk up and say, 'what's all this, then'."

This time the professor paused. "I guess it's the same reason you took Abby with you instead of taking her back. It gave me a chance to show off."

"Didn't take her with me to show off," Draco told her. "If I took her back, I'd been carrying her."

Professor Duracam shrugged her shoulders. "I'll take your word for it. I was still trying to show off. It may not have worked on you but I bet those five will never forget."

Draco watched as she waved her wand in the air. A silencing spell

"I planned on talking to you later but now is as good a time as any. Mildred sent me an owl." Her humour was gone. "The answer to your question is the sacrifice of an enemy." She leaned into Draco. "I know all about you, you little chiseler, and this con game you're playing. My guess is that someone else wants you to win."

"I knew that," Draco said snidely. "I needed to know why."

"And why do you need to know?"

Draco laughed wryly. "I know I'm going to win. I want to survive my victory."

* * *

Surprisingly, it was Professor Lupin who had the solution. He happened upon Draco as the boy sat in an empty classroom with his friends. He was attracted by the noise of Draco hitting his hand against the desk and shouting, "BUT WHY?"

"But why what?" Lupin asked from the doorway.

"Uh," Justin answered helpfully, "it's homework."

"With no books?"

"It's Professor Snape, Sir," Hermione explained. "He presented us with a logic problem." She smiled at Draco and said to him, "he does teach Defense. He would be a good person to ask."

Draco told her to go ahead. She was always better at phrasing things. Hopefully, she wouldn't give too much away. And she explained the problem beautifully.

The problem pertained to the Dark Lord's return. It is assumed he has the means to restore himself but he is rumored to have kidnaped someone. Why would he do this and reveal his plan?

"A logic problem? It seems farfetched. Perhaps if you explained the context." He smiled softly as the three watched him. "I am good at keeping secrets."

Draco's first thought was which secret he was keeping best. He played a hunch. "Do you mean that you're a werewolf?"

The smile became sad. "I assume Professor Snape told you."

"Just about. He gave me a book on magical monsters. He strongly urged me to read the section on werewolves, that it was very informative. He casually mentioned there was going to be a full moon, then mentioned he would be teaching your class for you."

"He taught us about werewolves," Hermione noted.

"Our class, too," Justin added.

"Does everyone know?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. No one talked about it. At least, not in public. Everyone could know.

Remus walked over and sat at one of the desks. "Let's review your problem, then. According to what Sirius Black told me, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is planning to restore himself shortly before the third task and use the occasion for a demonstration of power." He reached over and patted Hermione's hand when she showed surprise. "Don't worry. I told you I'm very good at keeping secrets." His eyes turned to Draco. "For example, I asked you to join my special classes because Harry Potter asked me to. I thought his reasons to be excellent and I have honoured his request not to tell anyone why."

"Potter?" Draco was stunned. "Why him?"

"That is a secret. For now. Even his father doesn't know the reason."

Justin nodded his head. Hermione did the same. They agreed it was the best chance they had to solve this final problem and it was worth the risk to trust the Professor.

Draco began by telling Lupin of the prophecy of the cups. That it was prophesied that if he won the cup then Voldemort would be restored. It was also known that the tournament cup would be made into a portkey. It would take the winning champion to Voldemort and the restored Dark Lord would use it to return to Hogwarts with his minions, presumably to launch a surprise attack. The question was this: Why bring a champion to him? He had someone inside the school. Why not simply gain access that way?

"Professor Duracam suggested it could be as a sacrifice."

Remus Lupin looked surprised and had to admit why. Draco referred to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as the "Dark Lord". Only his followers used that term. Also, if Draco was right, then that meant that one of the teachers was a Death Eater. The only two new teachers were the DADA professors.

Draco gave a rare smile. "We know it's not you and that Junior hates Daddy." His smile dropped. "And that can't be revealed until after the third task."

Remus had a lost look. He asked his next question. What was it that Draco was trying to do? This resulted in the three students telling in turn about the conversations with Doctor McCudgeon. It was concluded by Draco telling him that he was planning on refusing the prophecy, but. There was always a but. But he had to know exactly why he was going to meet Voldemort. He had to know what he was refusing.

Remus started to object. He said he couldn't . . . then he trailed off. He started again by saying he was unwilling . . . and he stopped. His eyes gleamed. He said softly, "I understand. He needs an enemy. The UNwilling sacrifice."

Draco insisted on asking if he was sure. Remus said he would stake his life on it. He smiled and said, "I would stake your life on it. And it wouldn't have to be you. Any of the champions qualify as an enemy. Both the Delacours and the Krums helped in the last war, in their own way. And Angelina Johnson is muggle born."

"It's going to be me." Draco smiled. "And I know exactly what to do."

"You can destroy him?" Remus asked. His disbelief was evident.

"No. But I can keep him from restoring himself." The smile was still there.

It was Hermione who asked. "How do you know what to do?"

"It's easy, 'mione. Walburga already explained the whole thing to me. I just didn't know it then."

He then told his plan and dared anyone to find fault with it.

No one did.

* * *

It was the final extra class before the third task. It was mostly a review for Draco. At the end of it, Potter asked a question. What exactly had Sirius Black and the American witch done? Black always laughed and said to ask Malfoy. So Potter did.

Draco asked if he knew the place overlooking the lake where he usually went to practice. The one hidden by the bushes. All three members of his audience admitted they did.

"Right. I'm playing my guitar and five Durmstrang students show. Black and Duracam sneak up. Black gives her a leg up and she somersaults over the hedge. While she's upside down, she pulls out one wand and casts a shielding spell to protect me. Then she pulls out a second wand and cast five hexes without saying a word. She lands on her feet in front of me and asks if I'm hurt. Meanwhile, Sirius Black sneaks up behind me, as a dog, and barks. I almost jumped over the hedge myself."

Potter and Longbottom looked at each other as they laughed. When they turned back, Neville asked, "Two wands?" Draco nodded and suggested he talk to Sirius Black. "He's planning on learning how to do that."

* * *

It was the night before the final task. Ludo Bagman was talking to each champion and their headmaster in turn. Sirius Black was with him. As he would be last, Draco knew he had time. He told Professor Duracam he was going to the loo. It was the one place she was sure not to follow him.

Professor Crouch was waiting for him as he walked in. His first sentence was they had to make it fast.

"It's very easy. The four tasks are on roles of parchment marked North, East, South and West. As you have the lowest score, you choose first. Choose the East parchment. It gives the directions. There is a charm so that the external defenders will be sluggish. You could even walk past them. Inside is another trap but don't worry about it. Float your token to the box in the center of the room and Accio the key when the box opens. Then get your arse back here as quick as you can."

He walked out the door, saying "and good luck, Mister Malfoy."

Draco nodded to himself. East parchment. Float the coin. Accio the key. And don't step into the room. He waited another minute then walked back to the room where he was to wait.

"Did I miss anything?"

Professor Duracam smiled. "Only Sirius Black asking where that scheming runt's gone off to."

Draco sat back down and waited. For twenty minutes. Bagman walked in and smiled. "Ah, Hello. I am here to give you the basics of the final task. I know you will appreciate this, Draco. You will be flying. And you will be permitted one flying companion such as a Thestrals or Hippogriff, which will be made available. You can also choose to ride them or use your own broom."

Bagman went on to explain about the parchments. East was actually South East, and so forth, to make sure there was equal distances. And that since Draco had the lowest score, he was the first to choose. In the morning, once all four champions had their parchments, they would be told the specific goals.

"You need to choose your flying companion," Bagman said. "It will be here, waiting, in the morning."

"I'll choose my own companion," Draco said his rehearsed line with bravado. "And she'll come to meet me when I call. I think everyone would prefer it that way."

Bagman's smile was genuine. "I hope she will return with you. I would love to meet a dragon."


	26. The Third Task

A/N: As usual, I can't think of anything to say. I'd best leave it at that before I prove that I'm right. Thanks to all of you for showing up. I hope you enjoy the read.

Chapter 26: The Third Task

Draco awoke on the morning of May 24 feeling refreshed. He had a plan to prevent the Dark Lord's return. It might also save his life.

Just in case, he had made his preparations. He confided to his friends that his plan might not work completely. All of his co-conspirators assured him it would. Hermione told him to worry more about after. That was the only part that couldn't be planned. Justin reminded him to make sure he knew how to run like hell. And where. Fred and George were the serious ones. They promised that if the worst happened, they would make sure his family was safe, even if they had to smuggle all of them into the Burrow without their mother noticing.

"Mione," Draco said without emotion, "If the worst happens, tell Kreacher he must choose his new master." He lost his composure briefly. "It's the only parting gift I have for him."

Hermione nodded her head. "And don't worry. The worst won't happen."

The last visits were already made. He bragged to Walburga that he would make her proud. He promised Hagrid that the giant could carry the cup after he won it, to make sure everyone could see it. Hagrid demurred and suggested he carry Draco instead, so Draco could show everyone the cup. Rita Skeeter was promised an exclusive interview with the winner, guaranteed by Sirius Black.

The last person he talked to was Remus Lupin. The DADA professor asked if he needed more practice. He laughed at the reply, "Yeah, about three years' worth." As Draco left, Remus reminded him to keep in mind the things that he had been told. And a certain werewolf would assume, until a certain Gryffindor told him otherwise, that his suggestion had been put to use.

The only person Draco did not talk to was Sirius Black. The man claimed he was too busy and the best thing Draco could do was stay out of trouble. As he rushed off, he muttered, "It would be a new experience."

Draco arrived at breakfast in a good mood. Hermione was there to greet him as he walked between the two tables to where he usually sat. Justin turned around to wish him luck. As he sat, a plate appeared in front of him. A good luck present from Kreacher. His favorite breakfast: Bangers and Mash with toast and jam on the side (to make sure he ate enough to be full).

Even the owls improved his mood as they delivered the mail. A package and letter from Lilian Brown. She was thrilled that Draco enjoyed the first book. And she considered his questions well thought out. That was why she sent him the second book. It dealt with the most common questions and problems with psychology.

It was then that Dean commented, "look who's here." Draco, along with everyone else looked to the entrance. Draco's heart dropped. Bartemius Crouch, the Minister for Magic, had entered the Great Hall. Making it a point to acknowledge Angelina and ignore Draco, he walked by on his way to the teachers table.

Draco's first thought was that the fix had been discovered. The Minister was here to reveal the plan to everyone. Draco's second thoughts were foreboding. The Minister did not know. He honestly thought that Draco's poor showing in the second task was a guarantee that he couldn't win. The man was returning to the limelight assured that he would not be embarrassed.

Draco finished his meal with much less cheer than he started it. The Minister's appearance could only be a bad omen.

* * *

It had just gone ten when Draco was admitted to the room where the champions were gathered. Bartemius Crouch was proudly standing before a small low table on which sat four rolled parchments. The champions stood in a row according to their rankings. Their school representatives behind them. Lugo Bagman was standing behind him. To look on his face, you would have thought he didn't have a worry in the world. Barty, Junior was next to him trying to look like he was happy to see his father. Sirius Black was standing off to one side, mostly watching Draco. Even Professor Duracam noticed. "It's like he doesn't trust you, boy."

The Minister made a small speech about how wonderfully the tournament had progressed and that it had been exciting and interesting. The rules for the final task were then explained. The parchments contained maps and a brief description of what to expect. The tournament began at Two. That gave everyone four hours to decide what to take with them, subject to approval. He closed by saying he regretted that he did not have a chance to congratulate everyone on the second task. He looked around the room pausing at Draco to smile. "If no one has an objection, I would like to reverse the order on how the parchments are chosen. That way, as it is appropriate, I can congratulate each champion personally, in the order of their success. As none of the champions know the contents, I don't see any problem."

No one knew of any reason to object. Any legitimate reason.

Draco had the urge to say something but stopped as Professor Duracam put her hand on his shoulder. He glanced upward to see her smirking. It seemed that she also felt the Minister was being petty. And she confirmed it. As the Minister called Angelina Johnson forward, Professor Duracam leaned down to whisper in his ear. Would he like to add slight for slight? Draco asked in turn if water was wet. She explained to him how easy it was.

After Angelina chose her parchment, Viktor Krum stepped forward. He shook the Minister's hand and chose his parchment. Fleur stepped forward. Draco waited. As it came his turn, he stepped up to the table. The Minister, smile slightly forced held out his hand. And Draco said, as he reached to take it, "I am going to win, you know." He deliberately grinned as the Minister's smile became more forced.

* * *

As Draco unrolled the parchment, his heart sank. He was not heading east, but west. Northwest to be exact. To a desolate lake in the middle of nowhere called Loch A Bhealaich Leamhain. There was a simple map that showed the Loch and how far away it was. And there was a spot marked on it. Carn Dearg. He knew nothing about Scotland except that Hogwarts was supposed to be remote from any muggle places, and this place seemed remote from any place. Yet it was only supposed to be 15 klicks away, as the broom flies. Perhaps not even that.

As he sat at his table for lunch, he pondered exactly what he should do. The Minister was keeping both Bagman and his son away from everyone, not only him. And he wasn't doing it to be mean or anything. It was the final meeting before the final task. They were too busy preparing for after the task.

Angelina stopped to wish him luck and ask him if he had any hints to give. He asked where she was going. She told him south east to the other side of the lake some ten kilometers. Draco hesitated. "Don't go into the room if you can help it."

Angelina smiled. "I don't know if I should believe you or not." She wished him luck again and proceeded to join Fred and George and most of the Quidditch team.

Hermione eyes Draco carefully. He knew what she wanted to ask. He nodded his head. His lip curled as he watched her, she was becoming more nervous as the time passed. One would think that she was the one who had to undertake the task.

As Draco stood up to get ready, he looked around for the other champions. They had talked briefly about their plans once they knew they were flying. Angelina said she was going to wear her Quidditch uniform regardless of how she was going to fly. Viktor asked at once for permission to copy her, and that decided the issue. Bagman at the first objected but that lasted less than two seconds. He agreed but warned them he would now have to wear his old uniform as well. He also warned them he was not in as good a shape as when he played professionally with the Wimbourne Wasps.

Madame Maxime was giving moral support to Fleur Delacour, making her easy to spot. Viktor was already walking out with Karkaroff. He gave Draco a quick salute. Draco gave him a thumbs up. He turned around and found the person he was looking for.

Since Angelica had seniority and because it was her idea, she would wear Gryffindor colours. Draco thought of Hufflepuff. Justin was in that house. So was Cedric Diggory, whom he owed a favour. He mostly wanted to do it because it was Alastor Moody's former house. Before he said anything, he had another thought. If he won the cup, he would meet someone who did not think much of that house. He would be more likely impressed by one of the other houses.

"Are you ready?" Professor Snape asked. "I have your uniform in my office. And I want to take a picture as well."

Ron Weasley reacted. "Slytherin? You're wearing Slytherin colours."

Draco gave him a smile. "If I can't wear my mum's colours, I'll wear Dad's." He shrugged. "Angelina said it was a noble thought."

"Professor," Hermione saw Ron's face and couldn't help herself. She dared to ask. "Could I bother you for a print?"

"Of course, Hermione. I would be delighted."

They went to the Professor's office where Draco quickly changed into the green uniform with silver trim. He posed for a picture, then had another idea. When the professor agreed they had time, they left the office and walked to a certain corridor where there was a portrait with a flower box hanging in front of it. She smiled as he approached.

"Percillia, do you see. Draco's come by."

"Walburga," Severus called out. "I've brought my camera."

Walburga Black laughed. "And what would I do with a photograph? Let me admire my little boy for a minute before you run off."

After only a few minutes, Walburga chased him off least he be late. There was still a half hour left and all Draco had to do was reach the Quidditch pitch. In a pinch, he could call on Kreacher. It would be more fun, however, seeing everyone's reactions as he walked to his place.

There was one more turn before they came to the staircases when someone started walking toward him. Someone he didn't expect.

"Potter?"Severus Snape was in no mood for any last minute trouble.

"Malfoy needs a broom. I saw what he picked. It's good but it's not good enough." Harry Potter held out an almost brand new Firebolt. He wasn't smiling. "I haven't had much chance to use it."

Draco gingerly took the broom, half afraid of some trick. He mumbled a thank you then asked why. Potter answered him by addressing Professor Snape. "You should tell him . . . Sir."

"Tell him what?" Snape's voice was deliberately threatening as he stared into Potter's eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Potter's voice was angry and frustrated. "I don't know how to prove it."

"Prove what?"

Severus Snape gave a derisive laugh. "Mister Potter has convinced himself that you are the Chosen One. Do you understand the reference?"

"Yeah," Draco answered snidely. "I'm supposed to defeat Voldemort single-handedly while everyone watches. " He paused, then said in a kind voice, "Thank you for the broom, though."

Potter stormed off. He was becoming a strange blighter. At least he was being helpful. Plenty of time was becoming cutting it close when there was one more interruption. Professor Lestrange was waiting at the doors. He said he was there to see his godson off. He then apologized for not coming earlier but he had taken a small trip. He also suggested they continue walking.

Draco naturally asked his godfather where he's gone. Rodolphus explained that he went to see the house that he was born in. He always found it restful. "You should try it, sometime, if you get the chance. It helps give perspective to things." His always smiling face turned to Professor Snape. "Severus, have a good day."

Draco understood what Uncle Rodolphus was doing. He had done the same thing, just in case. He was saying his goodbyes.

* * *

Professor Duracam gave Professor Snape a curt thank you as she took Draco from him. Her first question was about the broom. She led him to the Pitch which was the starting and end point of the task. In the center if the pitch was a square wall. The professor said that each side must be at least one hundred feet, maybe one twenty. Draco asked what that was in meters. He was told that five miles equals nine kilometers and he could do the math. She was in the Athletics department. Draco nodded and glanced through the gate as they walked toward the platform where the Minister was waiting. In the center, on a plinth, sat the cup. The path led straight to it, graced on each side by what appeared to be a typical English garden.. It seemed there was a gate in the center of each side.

The professor was asking about an important subject. How many people knew?

Draco paused to look at the cup as he gave her as honest an answer as he could. Among the teachers, Professors Snape, Lestrange, Crouch and Lupin. Among the students, Justin and Hermione. Angelina had suspicions about the tournament but no idea about the cup. Crouch was the only one who didn't know what Draco was planning. Arthur Weasley knew. He was the one who explained it to Draco. He was the one who said to be careful who he said anything to.

It was foolishness, she told him. Letting a boy of fourteen take such a risk. She demanded a good reason not to tell Dumbledore at once. Draco could only think of two. And both were related. Jack's prophecy said it was something he had to do. And Professor Lestrange said that if he did this they might die. If he didn't, they would die. Everyone would become his enemy.

As they reached the other champions, Draco had to smile. Fleur Delacour, in her sky blue quidditch uniform (she was a chaser, like Angelina) was the only one who did not chose a broom. He commented that she had chosen a thestral. She would tell him it had greater speed than a broom, and had greater mobility. Viktor Krum's uniform was fiery red. It was the same on he had worn in the World Cup. Angelina Johnson was in the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor. Angelina also told Draco he looked good in green. She ruined it by laughing.

As the Minister called everyone to order, the champions lined up. Professor Duracam wished him luck and warned him she might inform Dumbledore anyway. That proved quickly not to be as Professor Dumbledore paused as he passed by to wish Draco good luck as well. He added that Professor Lupin had told him about the special lessons. It was said in cheerfulness but his face held no smile. And when Professor Duracam asked if they could talk, Dumbledore assured her there was no need, but . . . perhaps she would like to join him for conversation. He expected they would have some time to wait and he was willing to offer tea and cake.

Draco knew at once that Lupin had told the man everything. He also knew that Dumbledore had his reservations but was going to let him do it. The man was an enigma. Draco smiled inwardly, remembering when Hermione had explained that word to him.

As Minister Crouch rambled on about honour, Draco looked up at the stands. The Slytherins were there. When Vince and Greg saw him looking in their direction, they waved. Draco raised his hand in return. At this, the Slytherins cheered. Malfoy may be in Gryffindor but he was wearing their colours. Today, he was their champion. That cheer earned him a glare from the Minister. Draco pumped his fist in the air, resulting in more cheers.

The speech seemed to drag on. Draco's best guess was that the Minister was determined to speak for a specific amount of time as opposed to saying anything in particular.

"And now," the Minister called out, as Fleur who was standing next to him gave sigh of relief, "the time has come. Champions, take your starting positions."

Draco, as things worked out, had the furthest walk. He had barely reached his starting point when the call came out to mount. He mounted his broom. A few seconds later, the sound of a cannon was heard. The task had begun.

* * *

Desolate was a good word to describe the area he was flying over. Everything was barren once he had flown over the nearest hills. There were some field and trees near the rivers and streams he passed over but no people. Draco seriously doubted that any people were in the area except for the lone hiker. As he drew near to the lake, there was nothing except the occasional patch of grass and plenty of barren rock. Near to the lake most of the rocks were covered in a brown moss. At least that was what it looked like from the air. When he finally reached Loch A Bhealaich Leamhain, the moss seemed to cover almost everything. He made a mental note to ask Professor Sprout what kind it was.

Carn Dearg was easy to spot. It was a long sloping hill on the far side of the loch. At the ridge was a large rock. A pile of rocks to be exact. A glint of light off metal told him that the box was at the base of the rocks. There appeared to be brown moss around there as well.

As Draco began his flight downward, he noticed something. The moss was not continuous. Patches of bare rock could be seen. Sometimes he could see patches of green moss. Nothing else. Bare rock. Moss. The Carn. He was low enough when he could see the box clearly. He reached into his pocket for the bronze coin so that he could be done as quickly as possible. It was then he noticed the change. One of the clumps of moss had moved. And it was no longer a clump of moss.

A harpy!

The other clumps began to move and change as well. The first harpy had already stretched its wings and screeched as it rose to attack. And Draco understood the trap he had flown into. The harpies had been spelled to look like moss. The illusion vanished only when he came close enough to the Carn,

"STUPIFY."

The first harpy dropped to the ground, stunned. Eight other harpies were taking to the air. A half dozen more were preparing to do so. Draco yelled another spell, then pulled up on his broomstick. If he was right, he had fifteen more to vanquish before he could reach his goal. Their screeching filled the air, louder than he expected.

"OOF."

Draco was hit from behind. He felt a claw score his back. At least it would have except for the protective leather of his quidditch uniform. He swerved on his broom to face it and cast another stunning spell. The harpy fell. Four others near behind it closed for an attack. Draco pointed his wand and screamed.

Three harpies flew out of the way while one fell to the ground in flames. But he didn't stay to watch. A dozen more of the creatures were behind them and closing in.

Draco turned his broom upward and flew as fast as he could. His immediate thought was to get above them. Once he had time, he would think of a strategy. But the screeching was getting louder. He risked looking around.

Below him, some two dozen were rising more quickly than he had thought possible. But, on all sides of him, other harpies were also in the air. All were concentrating on him. His best guess was that a hundred or more were after him.

Thoughts raced through Draco's head. So many could easily overwhelm him. And the thought that held his attention the most was "why so many?"

Crouch? The bastard planned this! That was why he took so long. He needed to know which goal would be Draco's. He made sure his men had enough time to set the trap and get away.

And Draco? Other champions had died in the past. If it happened to him, he was sure the official number of harpies would be much smaller. Crouch would probably say something like the cocky boy should never have put his name in, that he only had himself to blame.

But that did not solve the immediate problem. Draco couldn't fly much higher and the harpies were faster than he had hoped. He hit on a daring plan and began flying west toward the smallest group, some twenty flying close together. He flew directly at them, ignoring all the others for now. As he closed in, he raised his wand and screamed. A wash of flame flew out of his wand and caused the flock to scatter. And Draco flew through the gap.

One harpy was still near. It was out of the path of the flame and flew in as the others flew outward. It was above him and coming down. A quick stunning spell caused it to fall past him. A second harpy, from below, bit into his boot. It drew blood and caused him to curse but did little damage. He shouted "Petrificus Totalus" and it, too, dropped away.

But it did slow him down. The others were regrouping and coming toward him. The mass behind him was coming ever closer. Draco screamed as he waved his wand and rushed forward as fast as he could go.

After one minute of concentrating only on flying, he dared to look back. The nearest harpy was only meters away. And behind him was a brown cloud of racing birds with screaming hags heads. He shouted a hex and the closest one fell. But his broom also slowed as he broke his concentration. He went back to flying and tried to think of what to do.

They were too close. One swooped at him. Its claws ripped a deep cut into the padding on his right arm. He never had a chance to raise his wand against it. Another swooped and missed him. He felt the claw brush his cheek.

Draco jumped off his broom. The Bulgarian Drop they now called it. He had done this once before, and this time he knew what he would do. And he did drop. He was high enough that he could choose his moment. But he needed to be as far away from those beasts as possible. He counted to ten. He couldn't risk more than that. When he remounted his broom, he was well under the flock and still flying downward. He began to pull up on the broom and head east, back toward the Carn. If he had enough luck, he could stop to grab the key and still have time to fly back to Hogwarts. A look upward told him he wouldn't have that luxury of that pipe dream.

There was plenty of distance between them but the harpies now had the advantage of height. They were diving toward him, their gain in speed cutting quickly into any advantage he had. All he could do was buy more time.

As he flew up Carn Dearg, he kept low over the mossy slope. He reached the ridge and flew past the box. Flying was now his only hope and a slim one. The trap had been too well set. He would never make it back to the school. He needed to find a place to make a stand. And quickly.

He was hit from above and all hope was gone. This time he was knocked down. He hit the ground and rolled, somehow missing any large rocks or boulders. It was a bit of luck he was not rolling directly forward. That would have taken him down the deep slope to the loch. He did hit plenty of small ones and by the time he stopped he wished he didn't have to move. His one small miracle was that he held on to his wand.

He rolled over onto his back and raised his wand, screaming as he did so. The harpies scattered as the flame roared out of his wand but they were smart. They knew he couldn't scream forever. They flew just out of range and waited.

His breath failed. The flames died away. The first harpy swooped down from twenty meters away. Its claws were raised to strike at him. It was ten meters away.

A black form swept past and the harpy was gone. The great flock scattered in panic. There was a new target and it was much bigger than the first. A great roaring flame, much larger and hotter than Draco could ever make, shot over him. The few harpies who tried to attack him either fled or were burned to ashes.

But the harpies did not flee far. Almost as one, they circled around for another attack. Draco did not stop to think. He couldn't. It was the best chance he had. He began to shout curses as the harpies came to terms with their new enemy. They were still too numerous but the odds were becoming more even.

The dragon howled as a score of harpies circled it, trying to nip at her or scratch her when they could, each flying out of the way when the dragon turned to them. More were joining them and just as many were returning to attack Draco. The only constant were the dragon's flames. In twos and threes the harpies were dying. But they were still enough to overwhelm. Draco screamed four or five times to keep his attackers at bay but he could do nothing to help the dragon. Worse, he was getting hoarse. His last scream produced half the flame of the first one.

The cavalry came.

Every British boy had watched enough American westerns to know what that meant. But this cavalry was not lead by a general in a white hat. It was led by an angry highlander by the name of Angus McFusty. And two dozen men on brooms were behind him, all calling out stunning and freezing spells. It took them ten minutes. Every harpy was either stunned, frozen into place, burned to ashes or eaten.

Draco looked at the dragon. Pride filled him for what she had done. And gratitude, that she would risk her own life to come to his aid. In turn, he knew what she felt. Not anger for getting into such a mess. She was proud of him. That he did not give up. That he did not run away from a fight. At least, not because he was scared.

* * *

Angus landed near him, ignoring the dragon. His first words were so thick with his Scottish accent that Draco could only guess what he said. Charlie Weasley landed next to the man. Draco's first thought was that he was going to be the translator.

Angus McFusty took a deep breath and looked up at the dragon. "Yer pardon, Ma'am." He turned back to Draco. The first question was if he was barmy. The second was what was wrong with the harpies. The third was to ask, in a colourful manner, what exactly was going on.

"The third task," Draco told him. "I think I was supposed to defeat all of these by myself." He deliberately smiled. "Please don't tell anyone you helped." He let the smile drop. "I do need to be going. I need to win this."

Charlie laughed as Angus shouted that Draco was a raving lunatic. He didn't shout more than that because a scriech was heard. One of the harpies had recovered and was now flying directly toward Draco. A dragon handler pulled out his wand and shouted, not a curse or hex but the cancelling spell. "Finite Incantatum." The harpy broke its flight, looked around it, then flew off in panic. The man called out that he had seen it's eyes. It had been cursed.

"Cursed," Angus muttered. "Someone cursed an entire nest and then some?" He paused to explain. "They're scavengers, lad. Dangerous if they think yer an easy target, but cowards at heart. Someone must truly hate ye."

"Must be over a hundred," One of the other fliers commented, causing Charlie to ask, "Why would they use this many?"

"Me?" Draco asked innocently. "The Minister doesn't want me to win, you know."

That was all it took. Angus changed his attitude at once. He asked Draco what he needed to do, then told the boy to fetch the key while they cleaned up the mess. As Draco walked (limped, thanks to a bitten foot) to the box, orders were issued. The curses were being cancelled on all the harpies. Each one fled as soon as it was able. Except for two or three that were eaten by the dragon.

Draco dropped his coin through the opening in the top of the box. The box opened. Charlie (Draco didn't even know he had followed) cast a spell to see if there were any traps. He then cast a spell to disarm it. A grateful Draco reached into the box and pulled out the key.

"My broom?"

"Didn't survive the fall. Sorry, mate." Charlie smiled. "Still want to win?"

Draco gave him a look saying he had asked a stupid question. Charlie laughed and said he had a plan of his own. He called to Angus and told him what he was going to do. Angus nodded and told everyone to grab their brooms. The remaining harpies would have to wait. The man glanced at the dragon, turned back to Charlie and nodded. As Charlie grabbed Draco's arm, the dragon looked at him with curiosity. Then Charlie took a curious step.

* * *

"Here's my broom," Charlie said. "I can apparate to Hogsmeade from here and walk to the Castle. Do you know where we are?"

Draco did. It was the site of his first detention with Professor Sprout. Charlie Weasley told him to get going and to look out for any last minute traps. He also said he had to warn Dumbledore that company was coming. There was a popping noise as he apparated.

Draco did not hesitate. He was on the broom and flying back to Hogwarts. He did not have far to go. As he cleared the hill, the school grounds lay open before him. In less than a minute he would be at the gate.

Someone was already there. As Draco approached, he saw Viktor Krum dismount his broom and walk toward his own gate. Viktor looked up and his walk became determined. As Draco reached the pitch, viktor put his key into the lock and turned. His gate opened. Taking no chances, Krum closed the gate behind him and began to run.

Draco raised his wand and cast Ostendo at the gated wall. The three locked gates glowed a golden colour. A golden dome covered the inner area. He smiled. No one could simply fly over the wall. And there was another reason to smile. The gate that Viktor went through no longer had a spell on it.

Flying the broom as fast as he could, Draco changed his direction to that gate. With a quick turn he was through it and flying much faster than Viktor could run. He pointed his wand and shouted, "ALOHAMORA". The gate flew open. It wouldn't be close. He passed Viktor with ten meters to go and reached down to grab the cup.

There was a loud boom that made both champions stop, Draco within a hand's reach of the cup, Viktor Krum three meters behind. And Sirius Black was flying straight at them and shouting. With a quick curse. Draco reached for the cup. As he grabbed the handle, Sirius grabbed him. Then the world spun away.

As the world came back into focus, Draco found himself rolling on the ground. He came to a stop as he hit flat stone. Every bruise and cut began to hurt as the new pain added itself to the total. To add insult to injury, Sirius Black was standing above him asking if he was hurt.

"ARE YOU BLOODY MAD?" Draco was furious. His carefully laid plans were all in ruins.

Sirius tried to calm him as Draco showed his extensive vocabulary. He stopped when he was told, "you almost killed me." Not that Sirius was listening. He was drawing his wand as he looked past Draco. The wand went flying as someone called, "Expeliarmus." Draco knew that voice as well. Peter Pettigrew. As he turned around, he heard another voice. Voldemort's.

"Such a temper? I am surprised to hear such words from a Malfoy."

A twisted creature no bigger than a baby crouched in the crook of Pettigrew's arm. And Voldemort was smiling. A smile that told of no good.

The plan was in shambles. Draco could not stop the Dark Lord now. The unwilling sacrifice was here regardless. The only thing left now was survival. If nothing was done then Draco Malfoy was dead. Therefore, something would be done. He would put his original plan into action for a different purpose. Not to delay the Dark Lord. To guarantee that Draco Malfoy would live. He stepped forward as the Dark Lord began to say something to Peter Pettigrew about killing. Both paused to look at him. Draco knelt.

"Master, I ask you to forgive me for what I have done against you. It was done in ignorance. I ask that you not hold against me the actions of my parents as they were not mine. I beg for you to accept me as your loyal servant."


	27. A Loyal Servant

A/N: A short chapter. I do apologize. It's one of those things where the stopping point comes too early for one's taste. C'est La Vie. Thanks to everyone for coming by again. I hope you enjoy my Voldemort. It's easy portraying a villain meeting his enemy. The question is how well do I portray the villain meeting a friend (sort of).

Chapter 27: A Loyal Servant

Voldemort laughed.

Draco Malfoy remained on his knees, waiting for the Dark Lord to decide what to do. He was in a cemetery, that much he knew, but where it was he had no idea. Behind him, Sirius Black was cursing. The only coherent words were when the man said angrily, "He knew. He knew."

"Wormtail," Voldemort ordered.

Pettigrew waved his wand. Sirius Black could be heard yelling, "Damn you, Peter. We were friends."

"Were, Sirius. The important word is 'were'."

Voldemort ordered Draco to rise. He did so, careful not to take his eyes off the creature that the dark wizard had become. The question was asked. How could the scion of Lucius Malfoy be trusted? The answer was simple. How could he prove he could be trusted.

"Only through my actions," Draco answered.

"And why would you want to join with me."

Draco dared to smile. "The most powerful wizard who ever lived? Who wouldn't want to?"

"Many. Why do you want to?"

"My clothes."

The Dark Lord chided him. He was wearing a Quidditch uniform. Admirable colours and in dreadful shape. Could he explain himself?

"I've plenty of good clothes, Sir, er, Master. But everything I own was given to me. I've never worn a new shirt that I chose. I've never had the luxury of buying a pair of shoes because I liked the way they looked. I've never had enough money for something that struck my fancy." His voice became bitter. "And I have my father to thank for all of that. He made sure that I had nothing. YOU can make it so I can have whatever I want." He made his voice sound wistful. "I'd give anything for that."

"Will you give me your hand?"

A chill ran through Draco's body. The way the man said it. He was asking a literal question. "Sir?"

"Will you sacrifice your hand that I might be restored?"

A million thoughts raced through his head. If I refuse, I am dead. If I agree, he is restored and I am maimed for life. What could he do? He had no other options. Taking a deep breath, Draco answered as firmly as he could. "Yes."

He would do this. He would become a faithful follower. Not because he believed in this man but because the alternative was death. A hand was a small price to pay.

"Do you think he lies, Wormtail?"

"He has that reputation, Master." Sirius Black began to shout something but Wormtail waved his wand. A spell to silence the man. "However, the proof is in the potion."

Voldemort sneered. "And it means you keep your own hand, coward." The sneer stayed in its place. "I think I prefer this way better. Should I be restored to my full body, it will be the proof that he is telling the truth. Prepare the cauldron."

Wormtail turned around. It must have been a spell because a stone cauldron, large enough for a man to hide in, appeared out of the shadows as it moved through the tombstones. From the sloshing sounds, it seemed to be filled with water. The cauldron came to rest between them.

"Do it," Voldemort said.

Wormtail took the frail twisted body of his master and dropped it into the cauldron. It sank to the bottom. Wormtail raised his wand. He closed his eyes.

"_Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son_."

A crack appeared in the ground near to Draco. He looked over to see a tombstone with the name TOM RIDDLE on the base. Bound to the stone by ropes was Sirius Black, his mouth also bound. He was looking not at Draco but at the ground. From the crack, what looked like dust began to flow out of it and to the cauldron. Blue sparks shot out from the cauldron as the dust touched the water. Draco stared at the sparks as Wormtail began to wave his wand again.

"_Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master._"

The man pulled out a long sharp knife and looked to Draco. The message was clear. His wand was ready as was the knife. Live or die. Draco chose life. With false bravado, He stepped forward and held out his right hand. He watched as the knife was raised. This was the moment of truth. He steeled himself for the moment. The knife came down.

One thing happened and one thing did not. The hand fell into the cauldron causing more blue sparks. And the thing that did not happen was that Draco did not react. He stared idly at his arm, at the spurting blood. Them he felt for his wand. It wasn't on him. He looked around to where he had first arrived. It was on the ground only a few footsteps away. He walked toward it while Wormtail recited something about blood from the enemy. As he picked it up, he idly noticed that Wormtail was sticking Sirius Black in the arm with the knife. Draco turned away. As he pointed the wand at his injured hand, there came frantic noise behind him. He ignored it. Instead, he screamed.

In medical terms, he cauterized the wound. His arm stopped bleeding. "You were right, Uncle Al. Not that I wanted to find out. There's hell to pay, now."

* * *

_ "Constant Vigilance," The man was trying to tell the boy. "It's not a fancy saying. It's a fact of life. What if you went into shock?"_

_ "Don' know."_

_ "Know. Shock doesn't freeze you. It makes you numb. The sensation of not feeling anything is what freezes you. But it can be a blessing. Especially if you're hurt, which you probably are. And you're probably hurt badly. There won't be any pain. Say you broke your arm and the bone was sticking out. You could reset the arm without a problem. As long as you're alert enough to know what happened."_

_ "An' this 'appened to you?" The boy was laughing._

_ "The day I lost my leg. I then disabled two death eaters before putting a tourniquet on it. Once the shock wears of, though, there's hell to pay." The man sighed, "It's like your body wants to make up for lost time. There's bloody hell to pay."_

* * *

The first thing Draco felt was his foot, the one that was bitten. It hurt worse than when it first happened. Then he felt his hand. The one that wasn't there. It felt like it was on fire. His arm tried to make the hand seem the phantom it was by causing him even more pain. If he had a knife, he would have tried to cut the whole arm off. To add to that, every ache was amplified tenfold. The result was that Draco fell to his knees in an effort to remain conscious.

The world became black, then tried to return to focus. The pain throbbed in time to his heartbeat. It was an effort not to fall over. He tried to take a deep breath but found himself rasping for breath.

Voldemort was saying something to Wormtail. The ratty little man answered. Draco vaguely heard him utter a cry of pain. The cry didn't last long. It was followed by popping noises. This also registered but barely. Someone screamed. It wasn't enough to make Draco look up. He was still concentrating on the pain. There were voices arguing. Someone familiar was shouting a word. RENNERVATE.

Energy flowed through Draco. Strength enough to withstand the pain and react to what was happening around him. He looked up to see people, all wearing masks. He turned to look behind him. There were perhaps a dozen people in all. And Voldemort was glaring at one of them who still had his wand out.

"I can explain, Master." It was the clear and calm voice of Rodolphus Lestrange.

"No need, Rodolphus," Voldemort was saying. "We know why you are here despite my orders that you remain at Hogwarts. I know you can't tell me the truth, but you can tell me if I am wrong about anything." The menacing voice became calm. "You made an unbreakable vow to Lucius Malfoy." He paused. "Part of the vow was that you not tell anyone. The other part was to do everything you could to protect and help Draco Malfoy." Another pause. "It appears I do know. Rodolphus, this is not convenient. It could cause problems with carrying out any of my orders. I have no choice. AVEDA KEDAVRA."

Voldemort's wand, suddenly in hand, engulfed Draco's godfather. The man fell lifeless to the ground. Draco idly thought, '_one down, one to go_'. He stared at the body while the Dark Lord spoke to the next figure. "Bellatrix, I trust you are not upset?"

"Never, Master." Bellatrix Lestrange's voice sounded joyful, worshipful, when she replied.

Voldemort turned back to Draco. "And here is the hero of the hour. Are you upset, Mister Malfoy?"

His voice was shaky as he answered, not because of what happened but because of the pain he was still trying to control. "He made it obvious, Master, that he did only what he had to do. He cared for me as much as he cared . . . for his own son."

"Can you stand?" Voldemort watched as Draco rose slowly to his feet. He then told his followers how the young boy they were watching offered his own hand, to show he had forsaken his parents. The boy was to be considered one of them, to be trusted completely. But . . . the Dark Lord was giving Draco a hateful look. "But Mister Malfoy has one more task to perform. Draco, kill Sirius Black for me?"

"As you wish, Master." He raised his wand. There was no emotion. He would do this because he had to. Survival was his only goal regardless of what it took. The man brought it upon himself by trying to interfere.

By trying to interfere?

"Master, may I ask a favour? I would like to ask him why he followed me." When Voldemort began to raise his wand, Draco quickly added, "I have a foreboding. He knows something."

Voldemort flicked his wand. The gag over Sirius's mouth disappeared. He commanded Draco. "ASK."

Draco asked his question. His voice was still shaky but it held only curiosity. "Why did you try to stop me?" Before Sirius could answer, he added, "Did you know what would happen?"

"Of course I did, you damned fool. What I didn't know was that you knew." His voice held disgust. "I never thought you respected . . . him."

Voldemort stepped toward the bound man. "You knew the cup was a portkey?"

Sirius sneered. "I even put a tracking spell on it. Bagman wouldn't notice even if I told him. I would wager every Auror in the Ministry is waiting for my signal." He confidently shouted, "NOW."

Several Death Eaters drew their wands as they desperately looked around. Voldemort didn't flinch, Neither did Draco. Draco wouldn't have reacted if an Auror apparated directly in front of him. Voldemort, however, laughed.

"I wonder," Voldemort sneered, "would the Aurors make an appearance if the tracking spell had been removed by my agent at Hogwarts? Because it appears that is exactly what happened."

Sirius sneered back. "Then kill me. I'm no longer of any use to you. I don't have any more jokes to tell."

"Master." It was Bellatrix Lestrange. "I know him. He's hiding something."

"He is, Bellatrix. His plan to trap me failed. He would have a second plan." Voldemort was smiling. He held his face inches away from Sirius'. "Perhaps there is another group of Aurors waiting for us. It would not be difficult to guess that the portkey works both ways. Knowing what it was, I would wager a knut on his knowing my plan to launch a surprise attack on Hogwarts. I would wager more but I know I will lose. Guessing my plan, he would have told others." He moved to the center of the circle and looked at his minions. "Had this man not come, my clever plan would have failed. And it would have been my fault." He turned to Sirius. "Next time, I will not try to be so clever." He ignored the muted conversations amongst the Death Eaters. "Any last words before you die."

Sirius looked at Voldemort's wand pointed directly at him. He looked at Draco. "I was trying to protect you. I DID promise."

For some reason Draco thought it was funny. His godfather made a promise. And died because of it. With a slightly mad laugh, he said, "Yeah, and YOU didn't promise not to tell."

Draco kept laughing but it died in the sudden silence.

"You promised?" Voldemort asked in amused delight. "An unbreakable vow?"

Did he? That was Draco's thought. He never knew how an unbreakable vow was made. He never thought to ask. But that didn't matter now. "Too bad, Sirius. You could have been useful." He raised his wand, again. "Should I kill him now, Master?"

Voldemort's voice was soothing. "No, Draco. You don't want to kill the man who is going to help you. He has to protect you even if it means letting you, even if it means helping you follow my orders. He would have to. Should you fail, you would die. We can't allow that to happen."

Draco knew Sirius was faking his look of despair. As quickly as the look came upon his face, it changed back to hatred. "Unless you die first, you bloody bastard."

Voldemort waved his wand and the ropes fell off of Sirius. Before they landed on the ground, Voldemort had turned his wand on Draco. "You can try if you like. The instant you fail to do exactly what I say, I will kill the boy."

Sirius eyed the Dark Lord as he raised himself to his feet. "I won't swear loyalty to you, if that's what you want."

Another grim laugh. The Death Eaters joined in. "I don't need to. You've already sworn allegiance to my servant. That is enough." He raised his wand casually as he talked, almost as though he had forgotten to pay attention.

Sirius lunged. He was not even half way when Bellatrix shouted, "Crucio." He fell at once to the ground, writhing in pain. Voldemort gestured with his hand and Bellatrix ended the spell.

"I command you to return, Sirius Black. Make whatever excuses you want. You will be the one to blame if Draco Malfoy is not treated kindly upon his return. Isn't that a wonderful plan?" He walked around the prone body. "I promise you, poor Draco will manage a spectacular escape and return to you whole." A snicker. "Almost whole." He turned his back and walked away from the man. "It is a test. You have a reputation for being clever. We will find out exactly how clever you are." He gave his wand a wave. A second wand flew from the grass and into his hand. As he turned around, he ordered Sirius to get up. He waited until the man was on his feet. Walking back to him, Voldemort casually reached inside Sirius' robes and put the wand in its special pocket. "It is time for you to go."

Draco smiled when Sirius looked at him. He assured his legal guardian that he would be fine. He was among friends. Sirius gave him a doubtful look. He turned back to Voldemort and glared, to receive a chuckle in return as well as a petty gesture which said he should go away.

Slowly, probably because of both the Cruciatus curse and the tight ropes, he made his way toward the Tri-Wizard cup where it had fallen near a headstone. He gave a final, worried look at Draco. Then he looked directly at Wormtail.

"Peter, I promise. When I get the chance, I will kill you."

He grabbed the handle of the cup and disappeared in a whirl of smoke.

Draco laughed to himself as he remembered his earlier thought. The one down was down. Uncle Rodolphus. The one to go was gone. Uncle Sirius.

"It wasn't what I expected."

"Draco?"

"Oh, did I say that out loud? I'm sorry, Master."

"You are forgiven." Voldemort walked the short distance to where he was standing. He carefully cupped Draco's chin in his palm and forced the boy to look at him. "I can touch you now, you know, without feeling any pain. It's because you sacrificed your hand. It freed me from your mother's curse."

Draco stared at the man, looking at his restored face for the first time. Pale, hairless, red eyes, a pair of snake like slits instead of a nose. Draco grunted as his arm suddenly throbbed. He tried to explain but Voldemort said he understood. He would take care of it. Would Draco like that? To be free of the pain? His wand hovered above Draco's injury. Voldemort smiled as he said that Draco would feel none of the pain shortly. As he stepped back, he told Draco not to worry. He raised his wand. "This is necessary, Draco. If you survive, I will explain. Otherwise, you have my apologies."

"Apologies?" Draco asked. Deep inside he already knew. His gambit had failed. His face, however, showed only exhaustion as the Dark Lord shouted the expected words.

"AVEDA KEDAVRA"


	28. All in a Dream

A/N: I must apologize to You Know Who. This is not the epilogue. To everyone else, thank you for being here.

I find it interesting that as I write I am forced to include certain scenes from the book. What is curious is how these differ, aside from the fact that HP experience his version of this scene near the end of the seventh book. But then, Draco was always a prodigy.

Chapter 28: All in a Dream

As the green glow faded to white, Draco heaved a sigh. All the little pains, as well as the big one, were gone. It was such a relief that he started to laugh.

"Someone is a little too happy."

It was a girl's voice. Draco looked down and saw her, twelve or thirteen, golden blond hair like his. Her eyes were grey instead of green. She seemed very familiar.

"You're naked."

The girl gave a laugh of her own.

"So are you, silly. Why don't you think us some clothes?" With a sly smile, she added, "School robes would be nice."

"Think?"

"It's your dream. Think about clothes. Whatever you want to wear."

Draco decided it was worth a try. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Gryffindor robes. He felt cloth covering him, shoes and socks on his feet. And the girl in front of him squealed with delight, which caused him to open his eyes.

"Dad will love you for this. Thanks."

She was wearing Slytherin robes. They were open in the front, revealing an outfit almost identical to what Hermione had been wearing. As a curious look came over her face, she pulled on the front of the jeans she was wearing and looked down. She raised her head, a smile on her face. "They're pink, in case you wanted to know." Before he could react, she grabbed his hand.

"C'mon. You should hurry. You're going to wake up eventually."

Draco stared. She had grabbed his right hand. The one which had been cut off. She tugged again and he let her lead him to wherever. Everything was white, although it felt like he was walking on a hard surface. He asked where they were going. The girl said she didn't know, they hadn't got there yet. He would recognize it.

Draco laughed. Then he thought of another question. By this time the white seemed to be swirling, like a light fog. He asked what her name was.

"Don't have one." Her happiness seemed to fade a little. "I wasn't around long enough." She stopped and looked at him, hopefully. "You can give me one. They won't mind."

The fog had formed a line of trees and vague shapes that might have been buildings. Ignoring this, Draco looked only at the girl in front of him who was hopefully squeezing his hand. He asked for time to think. It was all too new to him. She told him not to take too long. Then she was leading him along the ghostly path.

As they walked, the shapes became clearer, more distinct. The tree shapes became trees and the leaves started to turn green. The trunks turned brown. The sky became blue. And the gate they walked up to was too familiar. As was the house beyond it.

"Janice."

"Whot?"

Draco looked at the girl. "You said 'whot'?"

"You always do."

"That's because I don't know any better."

"And I should?"

Draco had to laugh at her smirk. "Yeah, Sis, you should."

The girl beamed at him, as though he had said something wonderful.

It was a sad thought, but Draco couldn't feel said. Not in this place. All those times when he remembered his parents, he remembered the green flare and his father shouting, "Save Them". And now he thought back to those little things that baby Draco had seen but didn't understand. One memory was telling. Mum telling Dad something and Dad hugging her. After they kissed, he put his hand on her stomach. Mum smiled and nodded. They hugged, again. Two weeks later, they were dead. And standing before him was the sister he never had.

"Janice," he repeated.

"You said that before. Who is she?"

"My sister, after a fashion. She lives here." He paused as he thought how to say his next words. "She wouldn't mind sharing it, if you like."

Janice gave him the biggest smile in the world. The next second, her arms were around his waist and she was hugging him. "I'm glad I have a brother like you."

His sister stepped back and wiped a tear from her cheek. She turned, too quickly, and opened the gate. "Let's go in. Dad's waiting."

"Mum?"

"Her, too but it's Dad you need to talk to."

As the gate closed, a moaning voice was heard. Startled, Draco turned quickly at the noise. Lying against the fence, not too far from the gate, was a gnarly twisted shape. It resembled a young boy whose body had been bent all out of shape. Draco stepped toward the body.

"NO."

Janice grabbed his arm quickly and pulled him back.

"You can't help him. And you daren't touch him."

"Is he dangerous?"

"No. Not here. Even though he's grown some since the last time." She saw the look in his eyes. "Draco, he's in pain, but he's the one who's hurting himself. Best leave him be. Forget about him." She smiled, again. "C'mon. Dad's waiting."

She led him to the door and opened it. Draco followed her in.

Lucius Malfoy was sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace. The one Draco always sat at. He was wearing a suit, the same suit the boggart had worn. He looked at the two children and smiled. Janice ran up to him and twirled around, showing him her robes. He smiled at her and grabbed her into a hug as she stepped close to him. Lucius told her she looked wonderful.

A voice called. A familiar voice from Draco's earliest memories.

"Janice, it's time Draco talked to his father."

Draco looked at the staircase. His mother was standing there. A jumper pulled over her blouse. She was smiling as though it was a normal day at home. Janice started toward her, then ran back to Draco. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said, "See you later, Bro." She ran to her mother just as quickly and they walked up the steps together. Then they were out of sight.

"Draco?"

He looked at his father. The man was gesturing to the chair across from him. It was both a question, if he wanted to sit, and a command, do it because I'm telling you. Draco walked over and sat down, the smile refusing to leave his face.

"This reminds me of the house your mother and I lived in. Your sister lives here?"

"Janice. We grew up together at the home. I inherited the house when Uncle Al died. Um, Alastor Moody."

Lucius nodded. "A good man. I'm sorry to hear he passed away."

Draco tried to frown. "How did you know about Janice and . . ."

Lucius held up his hand. "Because you mentioned her to your sister. This is your dream, Draco. A wonderful dream, I might add, but still only a dream."

"Then you're not really here?"

"I am. Because you dreamed me here." Lucius waved his hand to dismiss the matter. "It isn't important how I came here or how I know the things I do. What is important is that I have the chance to talk to you. A chance to answer a few questions, to explain things."

"But," Draco protested, "dreams aren't real. How can you explain things unless I already know them?"

"Dreams are real, especially when you're in them. And I can explain things because I am your father. You dreamed me as your father, not someone who acts like a father." He smiled, almost laughing. "I'm real because you think I am. Does that help?"

"No." Draco was laughing as well. The conversation made no sense to him although it seemed it was always about to. "What are you going to tell me?"

"Well," Lucius paused, eyeing his son, "you aren't dead. That's always a good thing to hear."

"Not if it means waking up where I was."

"Better than not waking up at all. But that is beside the point. Did Alastor ever talk about me?" When Draco shook his head, Lucius nodded. "And Severus, he is still alive? Did he ever talk about me?"

"You and Mum, all the time."

"About what I did?"

Draco shook his head. "Only about personal things. About how you and Mum loved each other."

Lucius smiled at memories. "I never knew love," he said softly. "Your mother taught me." His eyes had a faraway look. "I wanted her. I wanted her more than anything else. I was nice to her, always friendly, always helpful. She liked me for that. Then I asked her if we could be more than friends. She asked me if I loved her. I started to say, 'of course, I do,' but her look stopped me. She wanted the truth, even if it was painful. I hesitated. She turned away. I whispered to her, 'I do not know what love is.' She turned back to me and told me, 'this is what love is'. Then she kissed me. Softly, on the lips."

His face became stern. "Until that moment, I was Lucius Malfoy, the ambitious son of the Malfoy clan. I had decided that I would have my heir. I would secure my bloodline, by that woman. And I knew how to get whatever I wanted. But at that moment . . . I knew I couldn't get what I wanted. I had to give it."

"Huh?" Draco asked.

"I wanted her love, Draco. I wanted your mother to love me. But the only way that would happen was if I loved her. And I couldn't make myself love her. So I told her it would be best if she forgot I ever said anything. She said she would if I would tell her why." Lucius seemed about to cry. "I threw all caution to the wind and told her about my involvement with a group called the Death Eaters. How I was helping to organize things. I told her about Voldemort's plans. She was revolted. And as the disgust filled her face, I felt the same in my stomach. When she asked why I didn't leave them, I told her there was only one way I could. I warned her there was going to be a war. I told her it had already started. Do you know what she did? She suggested I talk to Dumbledore. That he might be able to help." He wiped a tear. "She said he might be able to help 'us'. " He smiled as he wiped his eyes. "And that is how I found out what love was. It wasn't long after, despite knowing what was in store, that she accepted my proposal. And the day you were born, I wasn't happy because I finally had my son and heir. I was happy because we were now a family."

Lucius laughed as Draco gave him a confused look. "My first explanation: Love is not I love her and she loves me. Love is we love each other." Another laugh. "Love isn't having. Love is sharing." One final laugh. "It will come to you, all of a sudden, and it will be obvious."

"An epiphany," Draco said, remembering something Janice had told him back at the home.

Father and son looked at each other for a few minutes. Draco tried to understand what his father had told him. He finally asked when he thought he knew.

"You became a spy?"

"For lack of a better word. But I was too well in to pass along any secrets by myself. I recruited someone to be the go between. He was very good at his job. Not that he did it for me. Severus loved your mother from the first." He gave Draco a grim smile. "When I knew I was discovered, I had barely enough time to give him a warning. He became Voldemort's favorite by betraying me." He smiled at Draco's shock. "It turns out that your mother and I had already'disappeared'."

"You were found, though. How?"

Lucius nodded. "Stupid, really. Someone saw me. Mentioned it to a friend, who also mentioned it. Someone else overheard the remark and passed it on to you know who."

Draco had to snort. Many was the time someone mentioned You Know Who as a way of saying don't use his name. His father had used the same phrase in a casual manner as to say there's no need to tell you. He also felt he had to say something.

"Peter Pettigrew found me. Did you know he was a spy?"

Lucius shook his head. "I am surprised. He always seemed too much of a coward."

"He was brave enough, tonight." Draco looked his father in the eyes. "He's back."

"I know. That's why you're here. And that is why you are going to return."

Draco's eyes were drawn toward the fire. It seemed so normal. Sitting here. Everything quiet and peaceful.

A low moan from the outside could be heard in the quiet. It was a stinging reminder of where he was. He turned to look at his father. He asked what it was that his father wanted to tell him.

"Everything." The smile became stern, his father's voice, lecturing. "But first, I have to ask you to trust me. You won't understand everything I tell you, but you have friends who will help you understand. Will you trust me?"

Draco said, "of course." His father told him to think about it. This was all a dream. It could be a controlled dream. It could be a trick. Draco nodded his head in agreement at the idea. He then said he would still trust his father. Until he found reason not to.

"It's called a Horcrux. That is why Voldemort killed you."

When Draco asked what a Horcrux was, he was given a simple answer. It was a common object imbued with a part of one's soul. It keeps one from dying. And Voldemort had a prepared spell to make a new Horcrux. But it failed. He assumed that Draco had found it and used it. Therefore, if Draco died, he was wrong and the spell failed on it's own. If Draco lived, more or less, he was right and the Horcrux could be found and destroyed. Even at the loss of a new servant.

"Did I make a Horcrux?"

Lucius smiled without humour. "That is not why you still live. Lily is the reason." A flicker if joy as he mentioned Draco's mother. "I know you remember. She sacrificed her life as a shield to save yours. He protection lies within you. And Voldemort has a part of you in him." He reminded Draco. "You sacrificed your hand."

"But," Draco smiled, "You're right. I am confused."

"You understand well enough. You had a part of him in you, from when he was destroyed. He has a part of you in him from his restoration. He cannot kill you without killing himself. That is why you did not die. But something did."

Draco followed his father's gaze to the door. To the disfigured boy outside the door.

"She said it grew larger." Draco, almost fearful, looked back. "Was I . . ."

Lucius nodded. Draco was silent as he thought about what was said. It seemed to take a long time but he finally put the pieces together. The diary was obvious. Draco snorted and was forced to explain the anagram of Tom Riddle's name. Lucius laughed, saying up to that moment he had always liked the name, Mia.

"Then you understand, Draco. You've crossed paths before."

"The diary. The locket. The cup. And me." He asked, hesitantly, "Do you, do you know how many there are."

Lucius paused. "The Dark Lord knows the numbers of power. If I had to guess, I would say three or seven. And we know it's not three. But . . . it is a guess, Draco. And he did not know about you. But . . . and this is also a guess . . . he has been restored only recently. If we assume the worst, you were the seventh. That would mean three still exist, at the least. And he knows the diary was destroyed. I assume he doesn't know about the other two. That means he plans on making two more in the near future, unless he suspects and goes to investigate." He glared at Draco. "In each of those cases, the evidence points to you, I'd wager."

"But . . ." Draco had no defense.

The glare softened. "You need to know, Draco. Your life hangs by a delicate thread."

Another period of silence, longer this time, punctuated twice by the low moaning. It was broken by his father's voice drawling, "I could help, Draco. It won't be much. Simply build up your confidence." He shared Draco's laugh. "You need to be sure of yourself, Draco, and I am being serious. The more confidence you have the better prepared you will be to do 'whatever', to do that one thing that will make sure you remain alive."

"Confidence?"

"Have you heard of James Potter? Best Auror in his day, except for Moody and Shacklebolt. The third time I escaped from him, I was staring at his wand inches from my nose." He smiled. "Sometimes you can hold a wand too close for it to be effective."

Draco grinned and agreed with what his father was saying. "Confidence." He added, shyly, "I'm glad you're smarter than I am."

Lucius didn't laugh or smile at the remark. "The truth is, Draco, that you are a little smarter than I am, but I have a lot more experience. Now, shall we try for some confidence. I don't know what you'll face when you return, but I know that you will know what to do."

"And how do I start?"

"Close your eyes."

Lucius told Draco to picture Voldemort as vividly as possible. To take his best memory and put it in the forefront of his mind. He was then told to hold firmly to that image. "Think about me. No, hold the vision of Voldemort restored in your mind but think about me, about how you feel about me. I know it is difficult, trying to keep two distinct impressions in your mind at the same time. But try. And let me know when you think you have it."

Draco tried his best. The funny part was trying as hard as possible didn't work. He did better when he relaxed. He could picture Voldemort but every time he tried to think of his father, the face would morph. He finally hit upon a little trick to attach the image with the thought. It was disconcerting to think about but, then, he was thinking it, not thinking about it.

Lucius asked if Draco was ready only moments after he had finally relaxed. Draco nodded his head. Lucius explained that he was going to count to five slowly and to himself. When he felt the hand touch his cheek, he should open his eyes.

Draco kept his mind free, only the thought and the image in his mind. He waited. He felt the hand touch his face. And opened his eyes.

Lord Voldemort was there, kneeling in front of him. They were looking directly into each other's eyes.

An instant later, Draco understood that his mental shields were down. At the same time, all feeling returned to his body. Draco screamed as he closed his eyes. His mental shields, through years of habit, fell back into place. And Voldemort was yelling. That he wasn't hurt. That he was fine. That he was more than fine. There was another popping noise. Some arguing that Draco couldn't make out. All it did was give time for Draco to get some control over the pain before Voldemort turned his attention back to him.

"Can you stand, Draco?" he asked. He waved a hand. "Help him up. GENTLY." As Draco steadied himself on his feet, the Dark Lord stood next to him, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"This boy gave his right hand that I might be restored. I will place him at my right hand. Anyone who harms Draco Malfoy will answer to me." When Draco looked up, he saw a smile on the man's/monster's face. "We will talk again, Draco, when it is time. And let Severus know that I trust him." He turned his eyes and Draco followed his glance. One Death Eater was there without a mask.

Bartemius Crouch, Junior.

"Good Evening, Professor."

A surprised Crouch gave a small nod in return.

"And now, Draco, it is time for your spectacular escape."

"Uh, yeah." Draco saw he was still holding his wand. With difficulty, he put it back in his wand pocket, an action he normally performed with his right hand. His left hand empty, he reached into a pocket beneath his Quidditch robes the coin was still there. He realized the Dark Lord was saying something. "Oh, what, um, Master?"

"We're were talking about your escape."

"I'm ready."

Voldemort took his hand off Draco's shoulder and held it up to emphasize his question. "And where do you want to escape to."

Draco grasped the coin firmly. "Already worked that out, Sir. Saint Mungo's."

The world swirled and became white. The trip by portkey was too much for Draco, however. The last thing he saw before passing out was a Healer looking at him in surprise.


	29. One More Meeting

A/N: I love working. I also love working late and on weekends. At least, I love it on the following payday. That is why this chapter is being posted at night instead of the morning. At least I'm still posting it on a Sunday.

One curious thing. I was reading from Uncle John's Bathroom reader and they had some interesting statistics. Physicists have the most stable personalities of any occupation. Only 16% display any kind of mental disorder. Poets are the least stable at 87%. Fiction writers are second with 73% showing some kind of mental disorder. I wonder what would be the result if they redid the survey to include fanfiction writers?

Chapter 29: One More Meeting

The most amazing thing that Draco felt when he awoke was peace. He knew he had woken several times before, to be plied with various potions before he fell back to sleep. This time was different. He was not becoming conscious. He was waking up. And the world seemed a wonderful place.

He did not open his eyes at once. He relaxed first, feeling the warm sun on his face. He could feel her stirring, the comfort she seemed to exude, as the dragon knew he was awake. Satisfied he could not sleep any more if he tried, Draco opened his eyes.

Professor Duracam was standing in front of him, at the end of the reclining chair he was lying on. From the colour and shape it was probably a reconfigured bed from the infirmary. And Professor Duracam was smiling, both that he was awake and that the dragon chose to trumpet the fact.

"Is she still mothering you?"

A laugh. "More like helping a member of the family. She knew I was in over my head. Just wanted to make sure I was fine before she left. She's going to clutch soon."

Professor Duracam looked over his head. "That explains the other dragon. I guess he's the papa."

She backed up as a dragon's head came into view. It wasn't Mum. This one was bigger. He was looking at Draco as if to say, "It's about time." A hoop was clearly visible behind his head. Draco had to ask.

"Where am I?"

"The Quidditch pitch. Everyone agreed it was a good place for dragons. The teachers and students think it's keeping the dragons in. I'm willing to wager the dragon's think it's keeping the teachers and students out."

Draco nodded. He then asked if he had been out here the entire time. She said yes. He slept better when they were close. Also, the dragons caused less of a commotion if Draco was near. They seemed to understand that people weren't food, but they were still curious every time Draco was taken inside the school. A dragon peeking into third story windows did not inspire confidence. Duracam's grin told Draco that she was telling the truth.

"Are you ready to eat?" Draco nodded. "Will they follow?"

Draco paused. "Not if they're eating as well."

Draco did not have to walk. His recliner floated along as Professor Duracam pushed it, much like a muggle wheelchair but much more comfortable. They paused as they reached the entrance to the team rooms, because several cheerful house elves were running out with the food. One of the elves was Kreacher. He stopped to make sure Draco was fine, that he was healthy, grabbing Draco's good hand with both of his. His happy tears were enough to cause Draco to give a few of his own.

"Where are we going?" It was the obvious question. There were too many possibilities to guess. The infirmary? Gryffindor? The Great Hall? Would they have him sit at his table in his pajamas? Dumbledore's office was another possibility, a slim one. It ranked just below going back to Saint Mungo's.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting at the steps to the castle. They were going to the infirmary. She claimed it was because she wanted her bed back. When Draco asked her why she met him here, Pomfrey told him it was to make sure she saw that he was healthy. When Duracam asked her, "how many?", she answered only a few dozen. She managed to get them to wait inside with the argument that the dragons might follow.

"You're fit, but stay in that bed until I say so. You'll be safer."

Madam Pomfrey opened the doors. Hagrid was standing there, like a guard. He beamed at Draco and started to step forward. Madam Pomfrey hissed at him to remember what he was doing and Hagrid blushed.

"Step back, All o' yeh. Give 'em room, now."

As Hagrid stepped backward, so did the students although they did it mostly to get out of Hagrid's way. The bed/chair floated into the entrance hall and Draco found himself riding a gauntlet. Students had lined up on either side to watch him pass by. He knew most of the faces. Most were curious. Vince and Greg were there with crooked smiles on their faces. They clearly did not know if they should be happy or mad. They probably decided on happy because Draco had given them so many chances in previous years to deliberately hit people.

Theodore Nott was next to them. He was smiling, calling out, "welcome back, cousin," as Draco floated by. A girl, a first year Hufflepuff was listening as an older student was saying he brought dragons with him to fight you-know-who. Colin Creevey was near them, with his brother, Dennis, next to him. At least, Draco assumed it was Dennis. All he could see was the top of the boy's head. Someone called out from behind him that they didn't follow. A low moan of disappointment went through the crowd. The best guess was that they wanted to see if the dragons tried to get into the school.

As they reached the stairs, Fleur Delacour was there with Charlie Weasley. She made them stop so that she could lean over and hug Draco, giving him a quick kiss on either cheek. Charlie laughed when Draco looked at him, and held out his hand.

"Welcome back."

Charlie apologized and held out his left hand so they could shake. He then turned to a figure at the top of the staircase. "He's all yours." When Draco looked up, he saw Viktor Krum standing there. Charlie was saying that Viktor did not appreciate losing.

The chair stopped again when it reached Viktor. The grim Durmstrang student eyed Draco's hand carefully. He then nodded his head as though deciding something. He smiled as he looked Draco in the eye. "I am sorry. You should have known. Ve vill tell you later."

The crowd thinned quickly after that. Most of those who gathered at the top of the staircase were younger girls from the various houses, and they were there for a rare chance to get close to the famous Bulgarian Seeker.

"Mostly curious," Professor Duracam said as they left the students behind. "Those Slytherins scared me, the way they were looking at you, Draco."

"They're supposed to hate Gryffindors, except me of course. They're never sure how to act when other people are around."

"And what Sirius Black told us has nothing to do with it?"

Draco cursed himself. In his happiness at being alive, he forgot that Sirius Black had a week, maybe more, to tell his version of what happened. And Draco did not know what that version was. Most of what Sirius witnessed was while Draco was on the ground in pain.

"Will I get to hear about it before they ask me?"

"It's a given." That was Madam Pomfrey. "Even your friends were warned not to say anything. I told you before, Draco. This is too important. I will follow the Minister's orders."

When they entered the infirmary, there was another crowd of people waiting. Everyone that Draco wanted to see. Hermione, the twins and Angelina were there from Gryffindor. Justin, Billy, Cas and, it was a bit of a surprise, Cedric Diggory represented Hufflepuff. Uncle Severus was there for Slytherin. Not to be left out, Ravenclaw also had a representative in the reception committee. His date for the Yule Ball, Luna Lovegood.

Most were congratulating him on making it back alive. The exceptions were notable for different reasons. Professor Snape was carefully watching everyone, as though he was the guard on duty. Luna was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper, upside down, as though being here was enough.

Draco's bed, still a chair, floated to its usual spot. That was when he finally had a chance to talk to everyone. Hermione, tears in her eyes, told him at once that she was sorry for all those things she said while he was recovering. Draco searched his recent memories. There was one, a vague blur that could have been her, and a lot of incoherent noise, at least to him.

"I don't remember anything, 'mione. No need to apologize."

She seemed so grateful for what he said that he promised himself two things. He would never reveal he was telling the truth, and he would never ask what she said.

Angelina and Cedric seemed to be there only to be part of the welcoming party, although Draco saw each of them glance at Professor Snape on more than one occasion. On the other hand, Fred and George were loudly exclaiming how they knew the winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament ever since he was a little boy. Justin clapped his mate's good hand and told him how glad he was. He also told Draco that his hand would be fine in a few months.

"What? But . . ." Draco exclaimed that his hand was cut off by a magic knife. Madame Pomfrey corrected him. The knife may have been sharpened by magic but it was not enchanted. She paused, not looking away, then added that he could expect it to ache almost all the time. He was going to be grumpy a lot as a result. But the hand would grow back. Fred helped by adding his own assessment. "Now you have to learn to use a wand with your left hand. THAT will be fun to watch."

"You two still friends?" Draco asked Billy when he had a chance.

"Harry thinks Cas is a spy . . ."

"I am a spy," Casper said evenly.

Billy laughed, "Harry won't say anything when he's around."

"And I'm around all the time. It's great. I can help a friend just be being there."

Draco joined in the laughter. It did feel good. Someone forced a chocolate frog into his hand. Someone's twin brother said it was the best they could do since the invalid's uncle wouldn't let them bring in butterbeer. All in all, it felt good to be back, even though Draco knew it couldn't last. On the other hand, there was a beetle crawling among the leaves of the plant near his bed.

* * *

It was the next morning. Draco had showered and dressed and was waiting for Madam Pomfrey's final examination. Once that was done, he could head off to breakfast. His first thought when he left the infirmary was that it was wonderful luck to wake up from his injuries on a Saturday. It meant that, even though Saturday was spent in the infirmary, he still had one more day before going back to classes. As he felt his right hand twinge, his next thought was that he should have asked how many months before it healed.

The good feeling did not last. Professor McGonagall was waiting for hin outside the Great Hall. She had a message for him. He was to see the headmaster once he was done eating. It was not an unexpected request.

Inside, he had barely sat down when his breakfast appeared in front of him. Bangers and Mash. Hermione commented that someone was happy he was back. Draco nodded as he went to pick up his fork. He stabbed one of the sausages and took a bite. He sat down the fork to pick up his cup of juice. Having one hand was already becoming a bother.

"You coming, too?" Draco asked. He told her he had to see the headmaster. Hermione said it was expected. The Minister was seen arriving early this morning. Draco asked. The minister for Magic was still Bartemius Crouch.

Hermione was surprised that he asked. "What happened is proof that he was right all along." She paused, as though remembering. "Sorry, I wasn't supposed to say that?" She had to explain. Everyone was told not to discuss what happened that day until after Dumbledore had a chance to talk to Draco. The reason given was that they wanted to be sure he told the truth. She added in a whisper, "They think Sirius Black lied about something."

Draco knew at once what the lie was. How he lost his hand. How could anyone have greeted him warmly on his return knowing he gave his hand willingly? True, the alternative was death. Also true, almost anyone he could ask would say they would rather have died. Now, Draco was in a quandary. He couldn't ask what Sirius had said without revealing where the lie was. He would do the one thing no one would expect. He would tell the truth. All of it.

* * *

There were more people at the meeting than expected. At first, Draco expected it to be only him and Dumbledore. After hearing about the Minister, he assumed it would be a meeting of three. The numbers grew as Draco stood up. Cedric Diggory stood up at the same time. So did Angelina Johnson, who told George Weasley he would not tell anyone what it was about, him least of all. Both walked quickly to join him as he left the Great Hall.

"You zee," Madame Maxime said to Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour, "We are not late."

Six of them walked up the staircase where Professor McGonagall was waiting. She led the small procession. Fleur gave a cry of delight as Charlie walked up. She hugged him as Professor McGonagall told Angus McFusty he was not part of the meeting.

"I've got two dragons outside that say I'm part o' this, lassie. Ye nay ken the trouble I'll cause if ye try an' stop me."

"At this rate," Draco said with amusement, "we could have held this meeting in the Great Hall."

McGonagall replied, without amusement, "It seems you are correct, Mister Malfoy."

"Why Charlie Weasley?" Draco asked Angus as they began walking again. The man had decided he was the boy's personal escort. "He's a bright lad. An' he knows how to throw his weight around."

Draco nodded when he suddenly realized something. He glanced back at Charlie to make sure he was right. And he was. The long hair was now a short stubble, the same cut the McFusty clan had. One thing he also noticed as he looked back: Fleur didn't mind the new haircut at all.

Professor Snape was waiting for them at the statue of the gargoyle which marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He raised an inquiring eyebrow at Angus and Charlie but said nothing to them. Instead he turned to the gargoyle. "Turkish Delight."

"Quite a crowd," the gargoyle commented as it jumped aside.

Everyone went up the circular escalator, as Draco liked to call it. When Draco reached the top, the doors to the office were open and everyone was walking forward. He entered and saw the rest of the group. The headmaster behind his desk and the Minister sitting on one side. Sirius Black sitting off to one side with Remus Lupin. Behind the Minister sat an ugly plump woman who was familiar.

The Minister spoke at once to the man who had followed Draco into the hall. "You are not part of this meeting."

"I am now," Angus said angrily.

"Everyone else is here because they have something to contribute," Crouch said, haughtily. "Tell me what you have to contribute and we'll let you stay."

Angus grinned without mirth as he pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet from inside his robes. He shouted, "THIS," as he threw the paper onto Dumbledore's desk. Draco could read the large headlines upside down.

VOLDEMORT RETURNS

It was with a sense of pride that Draco watched all the blood drain from the Minister's face. The man scanned the paper quickly and muttered, "all of it? All of it's here?" He turned and glared at Draco.

"Yeah," Draco replied to the unasked question. He left it at that. The bastard could rot for all he cared. Dumbledore, however, didn't seem as surprised as he should have been.

"For the benefit of anyone who hasn't read today's paper," Draco said cheerfully, "which arrived late to the school for some known reason," he smirked at that part, "I will now tell my harrowing tale. Where should I start?" He deliberately looked at Dumbledore instead of Crouch. When Dumbledore showed his irritation, he calmly added, "This is your office, Sir."

"Then start at the point you grabbed the portkey," Dumbledore said in an even tone. He was not amused by what Draco had done, but Draco had issues of his own and didn't care. He stood there and told in detail everything that he remembered in the graveyard, including why there were things he couldn't remember clearly. As he explained why he agreed to sacrifice his hand, Cedric Diggory became the one who spoke the expected line, although most of the others were thinking it.

"I would rather have died."

"Ah," Sirius Black said, casually, as he ticked off his fingers, "but, Cedric, your name's not Malfoy. You aren't fourteen. You have two loving parents. You have the respect and admiration of the people around you." He touched his thumb, all the fingers of one hand raised. "And you weren't already bleeding and wounded when given the choice between life and death."

Cedric looked away from Black, glancing at Draco. Draco shrugged.

"Can't do anything if I'm dead, you know." He forced himself to smile as Cedric looked up again. "It wouldn't have made any difference. There was someone else there who was happy I took his place. And Sirius was there to take my place. At least, I'm alive."

"There is that," Cedric acknowledged grimly as he lapsed back into silence.

Minister Crouch cleared his throat. "There is one more matter we need to discuss. What happened after Sirius black left, before you appeared at Saint Mungo's."

"You could simply read the paper," Draco said in an offhand manner. "Oh, you want the truth. Voldemort introduced me to the Death Eaters as his newest disciple. He then asked me if I needed any help in escaping. I told him no. Then I invoked a portkey. End of story."

Draco was smiling. "And now it's your turn. Why the large audience? Is it because Remus Lupin lied to me?"

"I thought I had a better idea," Lupin said with regret. Everyone here was a part of it. He paused, looking directly at Draco. "Most of the plan was in place before I talked to you, you know. Unfortunately, it all depended on anyone else winning the cup."

Draco remained standing as he was told how the other champions and their heads were taken into confidence. There was a great risk, knowing the cup was a portkey. A tracking spell had been placed on it. Once it was used, Aurors waiting in Hogsmeade would apparate to the site where the champion arrived. Voldemort would have been seized in his weakened state, when he could do little harm.

"I think I know the rest," Draco said. "You can correct me if I'm wrong. Minister, you gave a rambling speech so that there was plenty of time to set a trap. To make sure I did not return."

"That you did not return in time," the Minister corrected.

Angus McFusty stood up, red faced with anger. "By throwin' 116 harpies at him? Plus however many were burned to ashes or eaten by the dragon? If we didn't follow at once, both boy and dragon would have been dead."

Crouch stood up, as angry as McFusty. "I never approved such a thing." He turned to the woman behind him. "Dolores, what was my exact wording?"

Draco smiled as he remembered. The woman who walked in on his birthday party. Apparently, his godfather was wrong. She did find a way to advance herself. A woman who would do anything for the man who would dare to command anything.

"Minister," the woman said in her high squeaky voice, "I have the parchment right here." She reached into her robes. "By order of the Minister for Magic, any steps deemed necessary are to be taken to ensure that Draco Malfoy is unable to complete the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament." She rolled up the parchment. "I admit that I was excessive, but the boy's death would have been a blessing in disguise. And there were 140 harpies in all, in case anyone is interested."

Minister Crouch stood frozen in disbelief. The students were yelling in anger. Sirius Black stood up and marched toward the woman, his own anger apparent. Professor's Duracam and McGonagall were trying to restrain Angus McFusty from getting to the woman first.

To his credit, Professor Dumbledore pointed a finger at Charlie Weasley, who was also getting to his feet. Black was stopped by Dumbledore saying, softly, "Sirius, please."

"Hem, Hem," Dolores said, as she stood up, "I'm sorry to say that I was only doing what I was asked to." He voice showed she was not sorry at all, except perhaps because she was not successful. "I have the Minister's permission in writing. To be quite honest, I cannot be touched."

"You are dismissed," Crouch said, carefully controlling his voice. "Your services are no longer needed."

Dolores smiled. She stood up and walked toward the door, wishing everyone a good day. Severus Snape made it a point to open the door for her. She smiled at him, then turned back to the others in the room. "At least there is one gentleman here."

Despite what everyone wished him to do so, Snape waited until she had cleared the doorway before closing it quietly.

"Could've at least slammed it on her rump," McFusty muttered.

"I hate theatrics," Severus said, coolly, as he resumed his seat.

"I love them," Draco said, "provided they have a purpose." To listen to him, no one would think he felt anything about that woman even though she admitted she tried to kill him. Draco was more interested in what was about to happen. He had one more question to ask.

"This could ruin me," the Minister was saying, more to himself.

"Minister, I'm curious," he drawled, "Who put the tracking spell on the cup? The one that didn't work."

The Minister, still stunned, looked at him in a daze. "My son did. He was so upset that it failed he left a message that he returned to London at once," his voice became bitter, "rather than face me."

"Oh," Draco said casually. "Is he still in London?"

Dumbledore was looking at him. Draco understood what that look meant. The man had his own plans for Barty, Junior. But he had his own plan and everyone else be damned. He felt Uncle Severus's hand on his shoulder as the Professor softly whispered, "don't."

"I just remembered," Draco said carelessly. A mental push was made at his shields. He knew it wasn't an attack, but a warning. A request not to do what he was about. "Someone showed shortly before I left. Someone without a mask."

The Minister was staring at him. Draco knew he didn't have to say anything else. What that Dolores woman did would not ruin the Minister, but what Draco was about to say was sure to do that very thing. A glance at Dumbledore. He now had a resigned look on his face. Uncle Severus had slipped his hand from Draco's shoulder. "Professor Crouch made a quick stop on his way home."

The Minister nodded. He quietly mumbled that he should be going. Draco deliberately gave him his best smile as he walked by. As the door closed, Draco waited for the uproar to follow. He couldn't help thinking to himself that it was done. What his godfather wanted. Chaos would erupt. And Draco Malfoy, the Boy Who Lived, was now very important to both sides in the upcoming battle. Come what may, he would survive.

"Why," Severus Snape whispered.

"Why not?"

"It would have been very useful," Dumbledore was saying as an admonishment, "to have a known spy in our midst. We could have fed him a great amount of misinformation. The Minister could have been removed once we had the right people in place."

Draco was distracted for a second. He suddenly had the feeling he need not be angry anymore. He casually looked at his pickle watch.

"I don't care, Professor." And he meant it. After all that Crouch had done to him, after this last escapade, he had no remorse for the man. But he did have revenge.

There was a sudden furious knocking at the door. Professor McGonagall opened it to find a frantic Professor Sprout.

"Pomona, what is it."

"The dragons," Sprout said between gasps. "The woman who came here with the Minister had just left the castle. They flew out of the pitch and . . . the smaller one . . . ATE HER."

Draco felt someone tap his arm. He looked up at Angus McFusty. They both smiled.


	30. Aftermath

A/N: One final thank you to all who have read and all who have reviewed. My apologies to those reviewers I've never responded to. I always planned to reply but life and a short term memory span resulted in, um, whatever.

I think I'm supposed to be eloquent but the truth is I've been up all night with insomnia. I have a headache. And I only remembered about posting this chapter a half hour ago. Once I post this I will probably sit up in bed and watch a movie. Either West Side Story or the remake of The Wolfman. In view of the insomnia, probably both. And don't worry about me. I'll be fine after a good night's sleep.

Chapter 30: Aftermath

Quiet. That was the one thing that Draco noticed as he walked around the school. Everyone was subdued, as though fearful of making a noise.

Part of the reason was the swift departure of the students from the other schools. They left the morning after the meeting. Including the American Professors. Another reason was the Daily Prophet. For some reason, known only to Rita Skeeter, her editor and a blond boy in his fourth year, no copies were delivered to Hogwarts until after the meeting started. (Rita needed no urging to join in the downfall of the Minister. She knew it would mean a month of front page stories, with her byline.)

Rita manipulated her readers with the skill of an artist. She could not name Draco as her source nor cast him as a villain. Instead, she presented a young frightened boy, already injured and bleeding, forced to choose between his hand and his life. (Draco was willing to wager anything that she was stealing Sirius's words from the meeting, or vice versa.) Her description of the pitiful boy was so dramatic that Lavender Brown, tears in her eyes, hugged him and told him it must have been a terrible ordeal.

In successive articles, the names began to appear. All sources were attributed to anonymous neighbors who witnessed the arrests or attempted arrests. On the six day, the Friday edition, Rita dropped her bombshell. Proof that Professor Crouch was the late arrival to the party at the cemetery.

Rita did herself proud. The headline read "MINISTER'S SON PROVEN DEATH EATER". And the article proved it by circumstantial evidence. Crouch, Junior was seen leaving Hogwarts. Thanks to departing patrons of the Three Broomsticks, she even had the exact time he apparated. The same methods of Journalistic investigation revealed that Barty, Junior did not return to London until almost an hour later, shortly after a certain meeting ended.

Saturday's edition held nothing of interest. Draco expected to hear of the Minister's resignation. Sunday, there was a copy of the Minister's speech where he gave his explanations for the secrecy. He also explained his actions. Rita merrily lambasted the Minister for his tissue of lies. But the Minister still did not resign.

"It's utter chaos," Justin commented. Draco smiled.

It was that Sunday afternoon that Ludo Bagman made an appearance. He was the only one who seemed in a good mood. Draco was summoned to the headmaster's office, this time for a good reason. He had the honour of being escorted by Fred and George. The twins, and almost everyone else, had been avoiding him for the past few days. Not out of meanness or fear but because Draco was a royal pain to be around.

"We know it's the arm," they, and almost everyone else, would say whenever Draco groused at them. They were right, but it didn't make Draco feel any better. The bloody arm still throbbed all the time. Even knowing he was going to see Bagman, and pick up his winnings, did nothing to improve his mood.

He uttered a remark that disparaged someone's lineage.

"We know it's the arm," Fred told him.

"Bugger all," Draco muttered as his arm twinged again.

"That's the spirit, mate. They're about to give you 1,000 thousand Galleons. Make them hate you for it."

They reached the gargoyle when Professor McGonagall was waiting.

"You're just in time," she told them.

"BLOODY HELL. BLOODY BLOODY BLOODY HELL."

"I know it's the arm," Professor McGonagall said, then gave the password. "Only two more days."

Draco nodded. The potions he had been taking were beginning to take hold. Once they did, the feeling in his hand would be more of a dull ache. But first they had to take hold. Until that happened, he could not take anything for the pain. Since the other option was a fake arm, Draco suffered. To the dismay of others, he did not suffer silently. A perfect example was when an owl tried to deliver a letter. She was almost hit as Draco tried to smack her away. Hermione was holding the envelope until Draco was in a better mood.

"Of course it's the arm," Draco snarled, "What'd you think? I was mad because the Chuddley Cannons lost?"

There was a sense of relief. Now that he had a bad twinge, his arm would be quiet for a while, perhaps two or three hours, then there would be a repeat performance.

The four went up the stairwell and into Dumbledore's office. Ludo Bagman was standing next to him with Cedric Diggory on the other side. Bagman was holding a money pouch, one that would hold any amount you put in it.

"Congratulations, my boy," Bagman said as Draco approached, "They'll be talking about this Tournament for decades." His smile dimmed. "Even after that other thing is forgotten. You know what I mean." His smile returned full force and he went to shake Draco's hand. He stopped himself and held out his left hand.

"Understandably, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore was saying as Bagman was coerced into silence, "It would not be appropriate to make a public presentation. Especially when we consider certain other facts have come to light."

"Nothing illegal," Bagman said. "Questionable, but not illegal."

Dumbledore was not smiling. "It seems that Mister Bagman wagered a significant sum on the tournament, and that he had a partner. I thought it best that all money matters be settled at once." He smiled. "Ludo has respectfully agreed." He pulled out two money pouches. "Mister Malfoy, may I present you with your winnings. Each pouch contains 500 Galleons for easy distribution."

He set the two pouches on his desk in front of where Draco was standing. Draco took the first pouch and handed it to Fred and George. They tried to keep their grins to a minimum as they thanked him. Draco's lip curled. He almost let out a laugh that they would try to be serious. Then he picked up the second pouch and held it out for Cedric Diggory to take.

"Um, thanks but . . ."

"Minister's orders," Draco said calmly. He held back his next choice of phrase and instead said only, "He . . . hasn't resigned, yet." He held out the pouch until Diggory took it. His winnings were now gone. Yet, more money was to be had. Except they had to wait.

It was only fifteen minutes. During the wait, Bagman explained that it was agreed that all debts were to be paid before the profits were divided between himself and Draco. And the others arrived.

Professor Flitwick happily accepted his 22 Galleons from his wager at the World Cup. Fred and George also received an additional hundred Galleons. Cedric Diggory, who pointed out that he was an adult when he made the wager, pocketed twelve Galleons. Professor Sinistra cheerfully accepted her winnings of sixty Galleons. And so on.

As each debt was payed, the payee left, usually in a good mood. Argus Filch claimed he should get interest on his bet as it took so long for Bagman to pay up. As it was, plenty of time passed before the office was down to three people. Bagman sighed, saying there were a few more expenses than he had thought.

"How much is left?" Draco asked slowly.

"Almost eight hundred Galleons. Still a handsome profit." Ludo was smiling. He knew that Draco had no choice but to accept the results. And Draco knew he knew.

"That is wonderful news," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "That means that the last debt can be paid in full. Mister Malfoy, if you would call your house elf."

As Draco said Kreacher's name, Bagman was at a loss. He was saying that all his debts had been repaid. As Kreacher appeared, Dumbledore admitted that was true but Draco still had to pay his debts.

"After we divide the remainder, he." That was as far as Bagman got. Dumbledore was saying, "the agreement stressed that ALL debts would be paid, first." Draco had understood faster, as it was to his benefit. He still had to pay for the food he gave Mick and Janice at Christmas. A hefty sum of 134 Galleons. It was a small pleasure that his partner in crime would pay half.

"Won't be much," Draco said calmly. "There'll still be plenty of money left." He turned to his house elf who was already holding out a large rolled parchment, much larger than he remembered. "Is this . . ." He was already unrolling the parchment to read as Dumbledore explained. Bagman's smile wilted with every sentence.

Draco had a sister, by adoption. She and her husband were in dire financial straights. "The clever boy", as Dumbledore called him, had made an arrangement for the house elves from Hogwarts to supply her with enough food and drink to hold her family over until their finances improved. Two children and certain political matters had prevented that from happening quickly. Therefore, the house elves continued to make sure their larders were full.

Draco said that Mick had a job. He was corrected. Mick had work he was doing but it had to be done without pay, hence the explanation of political reasons. The financial problems had only been resolved recently, in the last week.

The headmaster's eyes were twinkling as he told Draco, "It is amazing how much two growing children can eat."

There was a pile of paper at Draco's feet as he reached the last line and the total. Draco looked up in surprise. "Seven Hundred and Eighty Three Galleons?"

"You are paying for goods and services. Kreacher's personal visits are not considered as part of the delivery charges."

"Personal?"

"I believe the muggle term is 'baby sitting'."

"Right." Draco decided he would think about all of this at a later time. Much later.

"Ludo? The pouch?" Dumbledore was smiling as he took the pouch and handed it to Kreacher. Kreacher held the pouch and waved his hand. The pouch opened. Two gold coins came out. Two people groaned as the house elf handed the pouch to the third person. Kreacher then gave the two coins to Ludo Bagman. As per their agreement, Ludo handed Draco his Galleon. He said his goodbyes, thanking Professor Dumbledore for his fairness, and left, avoiding Draco's glare.

* * *

It was fifteen minutes later. Draco was now sitting in Dumbledore's office, drinking a cup of tea. He was scowling.

"Your arm?"

"Always. Madam Pomfrey says the spell has to settle first."

Dumbledore tried to smile. "I remember when Alastor Moody lost his leg. He told me he was grateful for the prosthetic after seeing what the alternative was. In his case, he did not have an alternative."

Draco did not react.

"Professor Snape warned Professor Crouch to flee before he could be captured. Do you know why?" A pause. "Draco?"

Green eyes glared at the headmaster. "My father recruited Uncle Severus to be a messenger, a double agent, to pass information to you."

Dumbledore's lips grew thin. "I did not know Professor Snape was so open with you."

"He never told me anything about what he did." Draco's eyes were still fixed on the headmaster. "All the stories he told me were about personal things. How my parents liked to sit under the moon. Things like that."

"Then, how do you know?"

"I know. Isn't that enough?"

"No."

Draco set the tea cup down. "It's never enough." He cursed as he felt a twinge in his arm. Dumbledore suggested they have this conversation another time. As he escorted Draco from his office, he pointed out that the Weasley Twins were waiting outside. They were undoubtedly curious about how wealthy their friend was.

* * *

Other things were happening in the meantime. Everyone recovered from the shock of what happened with the dragon. The shock ended more quickly then it should have by Angus McFusty telling Charlie Weasley to check on the dragon. Charlie agreed, saying he knew an excellent potion for an upset stomach.

Smaller articles appeared about the disappearance of the former Death Eater, Karkaroff. No one knew or cared what happened to him. Another article revealed the circumstances of the death of a Ministerial Aide, Dolores Umbridge. It concluded by stating that no investigation would be made until there was an official complaint. There was no information on how to make such a complaint.

And Draco was changed. He was rarely in a good mood. His injury was not the only reason. He had to learn how to use a wand with his left hand. It was like trying to learn to walk again. At the end of his first week of classes, he could cast first year spells with passable success and he could change a pin into a needle. Ron Weasley suggested having Hermione tutor him. Dean Thomas said it was an excellent idea. Hermione told him it wasn't.

"You can't teach reflexes."

And Cas. He changed. Justin said the word was relaxed. His father was no longer there to watch him. He could be his own man. Draco said he seemed happy. Billy said they were both right. Rodolphus Lestrange was never a real father, or a father figure. But he did represent a threat to his son.

Billy changed as well. As his friend relaxed with his new found freedom, he became more nervous. With the Dark Lord returned, and the revelations in the newspapers, his position as a close friend of a Death Eater's son made him uncomfortable. Overnight, the positions of these two friends was reversed.

Naturally, Uncle Severus changed. He was back to his usual attitude toward all Gryffindors. When Draco insisted on showing up for classes, he was paired with someone more understanding and knowledgeable. Any Slytherin. Usually Pansy Parkinson. Pansy rather liked the arrangement.

Draco, because he was a champion, was excused from his exams. Because of his arm, he couldn't take half of them anyway. When he tried, he found himself in Professor Snape's office in the dungeons. A cup of tea was sitting in front of him.

"You are the most annoying boy I have ever met. Does your arm still hurt?"

"Not as bad, now." He was finally able to take something for the pain.

"And your head?"

"I don't understand."

Severus Snape waved his wand and said a few spells. He then smiled sympathetically. He explained what he knew of the events of 'that night'. The Dark Lord performed the killing curse, again. Draco survived, again. "He asked me what you were holding in your hand when we found you on the day that Simon Nott died. I told him you had your wand. He was happy to hear that." Severus leaned forward. "He also said your shields were down and that he had a brief glimpse into your mind. Before the pain began. He was very pleased with what he saw. What did he see?"

"I was thinking of my father."

"However that thought came across, HE is very pleased with you. I have been ordered to watch over you and protect you. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Draco, do you understand? I have been ordered to watch over YOU. Only you. Your friends are no longer any concern of mine. Or HIS. And, very soon, you will have to prove that they are no concern of yours."

Draco understood the all of it. His late godfather was right. Draco was now safe. His friends were not. His friends were on one side or the other. Draco was not. In order to protect himself he could not afford to have friends. His thoughts went further afield. Of Janice and Mick. He would need to sever his ties from them.

Uncle Severus nodded as horror filled Draco's face. The Dark Lord would not want Draco to simply dismiss his friends. He would want Draco to prove they were not his friends. The same way it was proven that Rodolphus Lestrange was no longer useful.

Draco understood. He would survive. And, all too soon, he will wish he hadn't.


End file.
